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Washington’s Headquarters at Morristown, N. J. 

— Frontispiece 


C I a 0 n 
H a I 0 w e 1 1 


By Francis W. van Praag 

ILLUSTRATIONS BY WINTHROP EARLE 



R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 
9 and ii East Sixteenth Street, New York 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Cop'ts Received 

MAR. 18 1901 





COPY B. 



Copyright, 1901 

BY 

R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 


• • C 
• • 

• o • 


• # • . r • 


6. ® e f- • ♦ c » 


• • 
• • • 


Clayton Halowell 


TO 

HELEN AND SALLY 

WITH 


THEIR BROTHER S LOVE 



Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

1. Wherein the Guests of the “ Goat ” hear 

ill news g 

11 . Wherein Moths Flutter and a Flame Burns. 20 

III. Wherein an Enemy is Made 37 

IV. Wherein Figures a Piece of Paper 44 

V. Wherein is Demonstrated the Use of a 

Window 59 

VI. Wherein Halowell Pays a Call and Madam 

de Laurent Destroys a Letter 71 

VII. Wherein Are Recorded Several Occur- 
rences 86 

VIII. Wherein Madam Practices Diplomacy 109 

IX. Wherein Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 124 

X. Wherein is a Demonstration of that Which 

Fools Call Chance 141 

XL Wherein Halowell Meets a Masked Man.. 162 

XII. Wherein Winslow Proves His Mettle and 

Halowell Has an Unpleasant Experience. 170 

7 


8 


Contents 


CHAPTER page 

Xlir. Wherein Are Propounded Several Perti- 
nent Questions 192 

XIV. Wherein Madam Plans 212 

XV. Wherein Halo well Takes His Revenge 235 

XVI. Wherein a Man Struggles and is Victorious. 254 

XVII. Wherein Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 275 

XVIII. Wherein the End is Attained 289 


CLAYTON HALOWELL 

CHAPTER I 

WHEREIN THE GUESTS AT THE GOAT ” HEAR 
ILL NEWS 

The dusk of an April evening was descend- 
ing upon the busy, crowded earth. Whippany 
River was a thread of gold in the midst of am- 
ber-tipped slopes. The many rows of huts 
which scarred the hillsides adjacent to the 
river stood forth in the peculiar yellow promi- 
nence which is given to objects in the path of a 
dying sun. Tent and marquee, and the white 
mansion that overlooked the Newark Pike a 
quarter of a mile from Morristown Green, gave 
forth the comfortable glow of fire and lights, 
the aroma of stewing beef, and the more or less 
equivocal perfume of cabbage and beans. On 
the Pike itself were complex masses of human- 
ity surging, some toward the huts, some to- 
9 


lo Clayton Halowell 

ward the village. Endless strings of white- 
topped wagons and rusty cannon lurched 
through the gloaming; orderlies galloped be- 
tween groups of ragged infantrymen and 
swore impartially at cannoneer, driver and pe- 
destrian; cavalrymen in short jackets and huge 
helmets, and short jackets and small helmets; 
linen-frocked riflemen of Morgan’s and other 
regiments ; flat-capped, furtive-eyed rangers ; 
tall, heavy troopers of His Excellency’s Guard 
(whose tricolor plume and black half-gaiters 
marked for especial respect); officers wrapped 
to the chin, sternly impassive; pursey, red- 
faced contractors — all the little world of the 
Continental army hurried home to supper and 
a pipe. 

'' Faith ! one would think supping consti- 
tutes the oyer and terminer of life,” commented 
a bronzed, keen-eyed Major, in the blue-and- 
buff -and- white of the New York line. “ The at- 
traction of the kettle outweighs the fascination 
of dice at five in the afternoon.” 

The man’s companion, a broad, suave civil- 
ian, spread out his hands and laughed. What 


Guests Hear 111 News 


II 


would you? They have been digging at a 
nonsensical fort, or lounging at the tavern door 
since forenoon. It is natural the kettle should 
have an attraction. Damme ! He broke olf 
and peered down the road at a troop of horse, 
muddy and disheveled, which was straggling 
into view. “ Damme ! But here are some who 
are thinking little of cookery, I’ll swear.” 

The Major’s eye swept the passing stream of 
humanity and rested upon a column of men 
whose attire and mien bore, in no uncertain 
characters, the indications of rough work. 
Many of the men were lolling in their saddles, 
their feet either dangling from the stirrups or 
thrown across the pommel. Dirty rags band- 
aged two heads ; and a sergeant with an arm in 
a sling cursed loudly whenever a rut caused his 
tired mount to stumble. 

Sink me if it isn’t Allen’s troop ! ” ex- 
claimed the Major, and reined in, his brows 
knit, until the first man (who was prodding the 
roadbank with a captured Yager sword and 
damning all things an inch high) came abreast 
him. 


12 Clayton Halowell 

How did the raid come out, my man ? 
he asked. 

As ill as the rankest Tory could wish,’' re- 
turned the fellow, asking your pardon for 
saying so. ‘ Beat up the British outposts ’ 
were our orders. If running into a regiment of 
sauerkraut-eaters be doing the thing, why, we’re 
victorious.” 

The biter bitten ? ” suggested the Major’s 
companion, softly. 

“ Ay, the biter bitten ! ” retorted the trooper. 
“ But was it fair and square biting, I say? Not 
it, or I’m a Dutchman ! There’s that going on 
as keeps Clinton better posted on our doings 
than most of our own generals. Else how did 
he know where to expect us yesterday, and 
Freeman last month, and Sterling in January? 
Damned if I wouldn’t like to lay hands on — ” 

The man’s wrath choked him. Before he 
could recover, the cause of the explosion said 
smoothly, addressing himself to his compan- 
ion: 

‘‘ Did you ever notice, Mr. Halowell, how 
readily a defeated man cries ‘ treachery? ’ ’Tis 


Guests Hear 111 News 13 

a most singular peculiarity, but a universal 
one.” 

Halowell frowned, and by an authoritative 
gesture compelled silence in the dozen troopers 
who had heard the words and crowded for- 
ward, eager to resent them. 

'' ’Tis a most singular peculiarity, Borden, 
that you should add to our bitterness by ill- 
timed pleasantry. You are not a soldier and 
cannot know the humiliation of defeat ; yet you 
can surely appreciate good taste and bad.” 

Borden’s broad face flushed. “ Since when, 
sir, did I constitute you my censor — ?” he 
began, and finished to the scowling raiders and 
the air. For, there having been no break in the 
trot with which the troop horses were seeking 
their stables, a long stone building, surrounded 
by a low wall and a press of horses, had grown 
out of the deepening dusk. A sign-board dis- 
playing the crude painting of an animal which 
could have been a bull, an elk, a goat, or any 
other creature endowed by nature with horns, 
topped a gate, beneath the arch of which was 
visible a front of cheerfully-lighted windows 


14 Clayton Halowell 

and a door through which came the sound of 
much hilarity, the clicking of cards, and the 
companionable clatter of ale-mugs. Halowell 
dismounted, returned the salutation of the 
hostler who took his horse, and sauntered to the 
wide-open door with the easy assurance which 
comes with familiarity of place and people. Be- 
fore him, beside him, on every hand, was a 
stream of arriving and departing guests, heavy- 
eyed serving-men, loose women, drunken team- 
sters, ferret-jawed professional cheats, — all the 
unnamable riff-raff in fact, which eddies in and 
around a camp tavern. 

The Public was familiarly smoky as Halo- 
well descended the one step which led to its 
sanded floor. At the far end of the room was a 
counter above which was a second painting ( ?) 
more explicit than that which the gate boasted. 
This second prodigy allowed one to gather that 
the horned animal before remarked was the 
representation of a goat. Soldiers and bullies 
and blacklegs in all stages of sobriety and in- 
ebriety, and of all ranks and ages, worshipped 
at this Goat’s shrine, lounging before the 


Guests Hear 111 News 15 

scratched tables, dicing, drinking, and ogling 
the women more or less familiarly, according 
to the quantity of liquor imbibed. Halowell 
nodded to several of the devotees, rebuffed two 
of the women, and dropped into a chair beside 
a solitary figure at a table near the door. His 
deep “ Evening, Dalton ! caused the man to 
turn a pale, heavily-lined face to the light and 
catch his nether lip in a nervous movement. 
The sight of the tanned, smiling guest, how- 
ever, banished the involuntary agitation. He 
settled back and pushed the bowl of rum toddy 
across the table. 

Come from the house ? he asked, when 
Halowell had filled the glass an attendant 
placed before him. 

‘‘ Yes, and left Mistress Jocelyn about to 
plunge into the intricacies of pie-baking — By 
the by, I met your contractor friend Borden at 
the head of the lane.’’ 

Dalton set his mug down softly. He was 
looking for me ? ” 

‘‘Yes; on his way to see if you were home. 
I left him bound for headquarters and hoping 


i6 


Clayton Halo well 


you were at your usual task of delving amid 
sheaves of dispatches. He seemed anxious to 
see you.” 

Without a word Dalton rose, threaded his 
way amid the tables and the sprawled feet of 
the loungers, and vanished through the 
door. 

Blessed are the ties of friendship ! ” Halo- 
well laughed. “ Wonder if he owes the fellow 
money? It — well. I’ve trouble enough of my 
own without conjuring imaginary ills for oth- 
ers. Here’s to brown eyes.” He raised his 
mug solemnly and drank. 

Scarcely had the toast been downed when a 
flurry in the crowd at the door announced a 
new and important arrival. The Major lay 
back in his chair, and presently a tall, thin light- 
horse trooper appeared and was greeted with 
cries of “ What’s the news. Jack ? ” “ Give us 
the latest ! ” 

Though the tumult was highly flattering, 
‘‘ Jack ” stood calmly in the doorway until 
Halowell’s “ Softly, gentlemen ! Fink has a 
thirst which must be washed away to fit his 


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Guests Hear 111 News 17 

throat for use. What shall it be, Fink? sent 
him grinning to the Major’s table. 

“ Ale, Major, and thanks.” 

‘‘No thanks; the act is purely selfish — Ale, 
Hobbs, with plenty of head to it — And now, 
out with the budget, man.” 

Fink drained his mug and wiped his mouth 
deliberately. “ The news to-day, gentlemen, 
is that Allen’s done for — and a plague on the 
business for a mystery.” 

Halowell was the only man in the assem- 
blage who did not cry out surprise and incre- 
dulity at this information. 

“ Positive fact,” reiterated the courier. 
“ Got it from Colonel Hamilton not twenty 
minutes back. ‘ Allen cut to pieces by a regi- 
ment of Dutchmen near Paulus Hook.’ Gen- 
eral’s mad as a Tory and the staff swears 
there’s something crooked somewhere, which 
may or may not be true.” 

As a flash of light illuminates objects which 
in a steady glow would pass unnoticed, so the 
until-then disregarded words of the cavalry 
sergeant returned to Halowell. When Fink 


Clayton Halo well 


t8 

continued, warmed to garrulity by the ale of a 
second good Samaritan, We know there's 
those as don't think twice in selling secrets, but 
Allen was kept dumb; only the staff and coun- 
cil knew where he'd been ordered," he ceased 
to listen to the man further. There was an 
idea in his mind that required meditation. 

^‘Hm!" He stroked his jaw. “ Now that’ll 
bear thought. Hobbs, the score. And tell 
Captain Manderson I'll give him his revenge 
to-morrow instead of to-night." 

Not going so soon, sir ! ” cried Hobbs, 
aghast. 

A matter of importance, Hobbs." 

“ But Mr. Cranford has matched his Ply- 
mouth against Mr. Bacon’s Yorkshire and the 
main’s to be in the shed at ten." 

Even this inducement had no effect upon 
Halowell's decision. And though more than 
once he was stopped in the short journey to the 
yard, the persuasion and raillery of which he 
was the recipient were as futile in altering his 
determination as had been Hobbs’ argument. 

In the cool silence of the road his thoughts 


Guests Hear 111 News 19 

had full play. The Ford House, the Guards’ 
huts, and the outlying cantonments were passed 
before he ceased to center his gaze upon an in- 
visible point in space. 

“ It would bring the star,” he muttered. 
And by God ! its worth trying. Treason, eh? 
It’ll be an ill wind if it blows me no good. 
You’ll carry a general officer yet, Bucephalus, 
my lad; and if I knew just where to begin in 
a certain matter, the auspicious day would not 
be distant. But,” his keen eyes contracted and 
his jaw became unpleasantly determined, but 
we’ll keep our eyes open, eh, lad? We’ll just 
keep our eyes open. ” 


CHAPTER II 


WHEREIN MOTHS FLUTTER AND A FLAME 
BURNS 

“ Bien ! Madam ees beautiful — chic ! ” 
Yvette stood off to admire her handiwork, 
and Madam’s satisfied glance rested upon a 
face — a delicate blending of white and pink and 
red, a straight nose and pearly teeth ; and upon 
a form — a wonderful series of curves, blue 
satin and French lace. 

Straighten the feather, Yvette.” 

The ornament was duly rearranged and 
Yvette again enraptured. 

'' Ah, Madam, eet ees good once more to see 
ze fashion,” she asserted. “ Ze fright of gown 
I see on ze road. Madam Washington — ” 
“Yvette, stop chattering; and hand me my 
fan. What is the time? ” 

“ Half past free. Madam.” 

A wrinkle drew the ends of Madam’s arched 


20 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 21 

brows together. Reading a danger signal, 
Yvette turned hastily away and busied herself 
with the gown her mistress had discarded. 
Then the clatter of a horse sounded from be- 
low ; and when Madam ran to the window the 
maid breathed as if a crisis had passed. 

But as a matter of fact the crisis had come, 
for, upon reaching the window. Madam's 
eagerness changed to disappointment and she 
tugged so fiercely at a ribbon knot on her cor- 
sage that the threads thereof broke. 

“ Is that your sewing, lache ! ” she cried, and 
dealt the maid a resounding slap. “ Must I 
stand forever over you if I wish my work more 
than half done? ” 

The woman's lack of resentment was evi- 
dence that she was accustomed to being thus 
made the safety-valve of her mistress’ temper. 
And while the blow itself occasioned no sur- 
prise, its weight drew the tears. 

“ Stop sniveling ! ” ordered Madam. “ And 
hand me the roses ! " And crushing a number 
of the early buds from very wantonness of 
cruelty, the woman swept from the room, very 


22 Clayton Halowell 

beautiful in her ruffled gown and her pas- 
sion. 

There was enough of anger visible, when 
Madam had descended a broad stair and en- 
tered the reception parlor, to accentuate her 
gorgeous beauty and cause two beardless and 
mutually jealous officers, and a perspiring old- 
ish man in the throes of tight boots and senile 
adoration, to jostle for the honor of the first 
greeting. A smile, a glance, a pressure of 
white fingers made each visitor glow; the in- 
undation of a veritable stream of new arrivals 
cleared away the last trace of the hostess' burst 
of temper. She became Hospitality incarnate — 
a beautiful, breathing, radiant Hospitality that 
was marred by no peep of Devil or Temper. 
Each guest was the recipient of a smile, a kiss, 
or a flash of wit, and each gravitated to his or 
her especial set, firm in the conviction that he 
or she had received a special welcome. 

Tact is truly a feminine necessity, and the 
possession of it was demonstrated in the enter- 
tainment Madam had provided. That a stu- 
dent of human nature was catering to interests 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 23 

and individuals as diverse as the poles, was ob- 
vious. For the lover of nature, the terrace had 
been enclosed with glass that the view of 
the snug Whippany valley might be enjoyed in 
defiance of the weather’s inclemency. For the 
lover of maid, nooks had been contrived and 
hidden ingeniously by palms, screens and 
hangings. To those whose tastes strayed to 
Bacchus, a buffet laden with the choicest vint- 
ages of France and Spain and Holland was 
provided. Cards were to be found in a per- 
fectly appointed room set apart for the purpose. 
In fact, no one was forgotten or overlooked, 
and as a consequence all Morristown and the 
camp flocked to do homage to Beauty and re- 
gale Self. 

The card room and terrace were on the road 
to that state of social purgatory wherein one 
can with difficulty join a friend across the room 
or raise a glass, when a stir announced a be- 
lated guest. A broad man, heavy of jaw and 
sullen of brow, limped forward, escorting a 
beautiful young woman. Madam advanced to 
meet the new comers, smilingly acknowledging 


24 Clayton Halo well 

the man’s somewhat unpolished bow, and 
warmly returning his companion’s kiss. 

I had almost lost faith in humanity,” she 
cried gaily. “ What sweet lace on the panniers, 
Margaret. Blue becomes you so well, dear. 
Now tell me instantly why you are so late at 
this, my fortnightly Event.” 

Saddle horses, my dear Olive, are not the 
most reliable means of locomotion when 
hitched to a chariot. I’m rather surprised we 
succeeded in reaching you at all.” 

‘‘ Why risk yourselves behind such beasts ? ” 
It was that or walk.” 

“ Dear, dear ! Do you mean to say, Mr. Ar- 
nold,” turning to the man with a flattering in- 
terest that made him flush, despite the fact 
that he was newly married to the beautiful Miss 
Shippen of Philadelphia, “ Do you mean to say 
that Congress has not passed your claims ? ” 

General Arnold’s brows and mouth con- 
tracted. 

“ That’s not the worst of it. If they are 
passed at all I’ll owe no thanks to His Excel- 
lency, nor do I fear to say it.” 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 25 

It looks like a deliberate attack/' said 
Olive, sighing. Jealousy sours the best of 
tempers, I suppose.” 

“ 'Tis what I say over and over,” Mrs. 
Arnold interposed. “ Congress may reprimand 
and General Washington ” 

“ There, there, Peggy ! I'm the only one 
privileged to talk treason,” interrupted Arnold. 
‘‘ Besides, we may be wrong. If it wasn't for 
this confounded leg of mine I'd — ” 

Win fresh laurels and give a country lib- 
erty for its black ingratitude.” Olive's eyes 
sparkled and her cheeks flushed. “ Everyone 
knows the fact — the very teamsters and drum- 
mers know it. No attacks of petty spite can 
wipe away the fame of the victor of Bemis 
Heights. Congress, the army, His Excellency 
himself—” 

‘‘ Hush, Madam de Laurent, hush, for 
Heaven's sake ! ” exclaimed Arnold. This al- 
lusion to his wrongs was too strong for him to 
be sure of his strength. “ My sword will always 
be at my country's service, I trust,” he contin- 
ued stiffly, ‘‘ even though I be maltreated by its 


26 


Clayton Halowell 


misrulers. There is Doctor Rush, Peggy; I’ll 
speak to him now about those last liniments. 
Ah, Mr. Henry, good day, sir. Are the talk- 
ing days nearly over? We are getting tired of 
doing nothing but starve and have chills. 
Come, dear.” And the general and his wife 
moved away. 

Like all assured beauties Olive possessed a 
court constantly and assiduously attentive to 
her slightest wish, and jealously anxious for 
her slightest favor. Arnold’s presence had 
caused its partial disintegration, and before it 
could reassemble it was collectively and sever- 
ally rebuffed by the appearance of a slender 
man clad in the scarlet and blue of the artillery. 

Faith ! I thought Mr. Benedict would 
never go,” said the new comer. “ And it being 
scarcely etiquette for a Lieutenant-Colonel to 
request a Major-General to move on, I perforce 
ate my heart in silence.” 

Fie ! Mr. Hamilton ! That there should be 
a heart to eat. I had flattered myself there 
zvas none — that that much abused parody was 
entirely in my possession. And to be sensible 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 27 

— How are His Excellency and Madam Wash- 
ington ? 

Madam will be here soon, I expect, but the 
General was deep in a roll of fresh dispatches 
when I left, so I doubt if he will enjoy the 
light—’’ 

Nay, stop! Am I not sufficiently vain? 
Why, only a half hour since I was staring my- 
self out of countenance in my mirror, wonder- 
ing — but there. I’ll not expose the workings 
of the feminine soul. I hope there will be noth- 
ing to worry His Excellency in the dispatches. 
He appeared ill on Sunday, I thought.” 

The colonel’s countenance was cleared of 
all its gaiety when he answered, “ I fear there 
will be worriment. Things are going badly in 
the south and we are scarcely strong enough to 
spare reinforcements. The General takes the 
blows without a murmur. But they hurt.” 

Would that others were like him,” said 
Madam softly, to which sentiment Hamilton 
affixed a fervent '' Amen ! ” before taking pity 
on the evident wretchedness of the court and 
strolling away to the terrace. 


28 


Clayton Halo well 


With Hamilton's departure Olive expe- 
rienced one of the discomforts of royalty. With 
small heart for frivolity, and a question, Why 
doesn’t he come ? ” burning into her heart, she 
was obliged to mask disquietude beneath laugh- 
ter, and bury a something which strained her 
very soul at the sound of each late hoof and 
wheel, beneath repartee. 

I have accomplished this ! ” she whispered, 
half fiercely, and surveyed the crowded rooms. 
'' Why should I care ? ” 

If social success were the panacea of re- 
pressed longing Madam would indeed have 
been the happiest of mortals. For every space 
in the long, brilliant parlors boasted its knot of 
guests. Baron Steuben, Inspector-General of 
the army, was discussing with M. de Gonvion, 
Chief of Engineers, the probability of Lincoln 
holding Charleston against Clinton. General 
Kosciusko was in deep dispute with General 
Muhlenberg and a graceful, elegantly dressed 
gentleman whom he called ‘‘ Chevalier,” and 
who was none other than de Luzerne, the 
French ambassador. General Arnold was ex- 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 29 

plaining the variations of his wound to Dr. 
Rush. General Wayne, slender and bold, 
was laughing with a bevy of girls in a win- 
dow-embrasure. St. Clair, Stirling, and Put- 
nam were at the buffet, sampling all the 
drinkables from Port to Hollands. From the 
card room came the rattle of the loo and picquet 
players; through the long French windows 
came the tinkle of girlish, and the heavy bass 
of masculine, laughter. Fans waved and eyes 
flashed and black servants in brilliant liveries 
threaded the moving throng, bearing salvers 
of wine or confectionery. All was mirth and 
flirtation and relaxation. 

What if many of the guests did bear marks 
on dress or countenance of privation and suf- 
fering? What if many a frill were darned, and 
many a boot patched, and many a cheek hol- 
low ! Notwithstanding the shabbiness of faded 
uniforms, these were the cream of the young 
Republic and it had taken only five months to 
accomplish their subjection. Madam sighed 
and, as the court redoubled their attentions, re- 
signed herself to the inevitable. Members of 


30 


Clayton Halowell 


Congress in sober browns and grays reached 
over blue and buff and gold shoulders to offer 
her ices; generals with faces as battered and 
tarnished as their epaulettes, imagined them- 
selves young again and made her pretty 
speeches; youthful militia officers in gorgeous 
uniforms and radiant smiles were eager to do 
her errands, and congratulated themselves upon 
having attained a fascinating age when favored 
with a smile. All who came were allowed to 
add their servitude to that of the general mass, 
and to discuss themselves and their plans to an 
attentive, sympathetic listener. As a natural 
result the listener was smothered with atten- 
tions and regaled with gossip, plans, rumors 
and politics. 

In the midst of a discussion on the advisabil- 
ity of a new issue of paper currency (in which 
Governor Livingston and a Member from 
North Carolina were the principals, and 
Madam de Laurent, the judge to whom both 
contestants frequently appealed) the latter mo- 
mentarily lost interest. The cause of the phe- 
nomenon was nothing more important than the 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 3 1 

entrance of a tall Major of the New York line. 
But when the man finally laughed his way 
through the bevy of girls which surrounded 
him, and came down the room, a strong-limbed, 
strong- jawed, bronzed son of Mars, Madam’s 
manner betrayed distinct indifference for all but 
the late guest. 

“ The moth is come,” Halowell announced, 
accepting the invitation contained in the gath- 
ering of his hostess’ skirts. The court, not 
one of whom had been so honored, melted in- 
continently in wrath and vexation of spirit. 

“ To find the flame alive,” Olive replied, 
with a gesture which embraced the crowded 
rooms. The flame burns until it is snuffed — 
or sets something afire. Have you been back 
from Philadelphia long ? ” 

“ About a week.” 

‘‘ Really ! ” two deep blue eyes flashed above 
an arc of painted gauze. ‘‘ About a week ? I 
supposed you had just returned.” 

I have so much to do, you see — recruits 
coming in; and drill — and — see here, Olive, 
why can’t you be civil to a fellow ? ” 


32 Clayton Halo well 

‘‘ I was wholly unaware of having been any- 
thing but civil/' Olive replied, and smoothed a 
lace ruffle reflectively. It's five months, isn't 
it, since Fate and my balky mare threw me into 
your path ? Who would have thought the con- 
sequences of an accident could be so far-reach- 
ing? A carbine volley, an attempt of a fright- 
ened groom to catch the bridle of a frightened 
horse — and I foolishly slide through the ice 
into the Whippany — and you as foolishly fish 
me out. And then daily rides to the ‘ Two 
Doves ', and lunches beneath the honeysuckle. 
You see I'm in a reminiscent mood to- 
day." 

I'm wondering what it means.” 

Are you? " With a shrug of her shoulders 
(very white, dimpled shoulders), Olive looked 
into her companion's face. Tell me, Clayton, 
was the conquest easy — as easy as mine, for in- 
stance? Comparisons are odious, I admit, but 
womanly curiosity to learn about a rival ” (Hal- 
owell winced at the word and Olive laughed) 

must be gratified. How many afternoons of 
the month you passed in Philadelphia and of 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 33 

this week in Morristown have you spent in the 
company of the new charmer ? ” 

For an instant Clayton’s eyes were as black 
as his companion’s were smiling. By an im- 
mense effort he mastered his temper. 

“ You ask so many questions, Olive, that one 
lone man cannot possibly answer them all.” 

Then begin with the last.” 

“ I believe I have forgotten even the last.” 
There was that in Halowell’s voice that warned 
Olive the ground was dangerous. But she ac- 
cepted the challenge. 

‘ How often had you seen the lady Mistress 
Jocelyn Dalton during the past weeks,’ was the 
question.” 

“ Oh, a dozen times, perhaps.” 

Crack went a stick in the fan. 

‘‘ That’s a lie,” whispered Olive. To the 
scores of jealous eyes fastened upon her it 
seemed that she was relating some funny inci- 
dent and repressing the attendant laugh. 
“ That’s a lie, I say ! In Philadelphia you called 
upon her every afternoon, while here — a word 
from me to her brother would — ” 


34 


Clayton Halowell 


Halowell gravely looked into his companion’s 
eyes. “ But you are much too sensible to say 
that word, Olive. Why should we quarrel? 
Our winter has been enjoyable; you were 
amused, and so was I. It is spring now; and 
while I can’t quite see your right to demand an 
account of my doings, we are both sensible 
enough to know that our friendship can’t go 
on forever. You would wake up some day with 
a scandal over your head, and I with a black 
look from His Excellency to face. We are 
both imperiling our chances of advancement, 
you see, and so acting foolishly.” 

‘‘Is that the reason you are — are deserting 
me ? ” The question, which was a practical 
admission, cost Madam an effort and caused 
Halowell to glance at her oddly. 

“ You are one of two things, Olive — jealous 
or curious. As I can’t believe you would honor 
me by being the former, I am forced to take 
the latter as the motive of your questions. And 
surely curiosity — ” 

“ Is, has been, and always will be, woman’s 
prerogative,” interrupted a gay voice which 


Moths Flutter and Flame Burns 35 

caused both conversationalists to start, and one 
to flush with every indication of pleasure. A 
girl was bending over the back of the divan, 
and if ever Madam’s antithesis existed it was 
this interloper. Madam was tall and queenly, 
the girl was slender and petite; Madam’s eyes 
were royal purple, the antithesis were velvet 
brown ; Madam’s nose was Grecian, the other’s 
was retrouse; Madam’s mouth was that of a 
Venus or a Chloe, the intruder’s was that of a 
mischievous Raphael angel or Madonna. Hal- 
owell, making the mental comparison, strayed 
longer to the less beautiful face. Madam, no- 
ticing the fact, rose abruptly. 

The girl expressed quick contrition. Don’t 
say I disturbed you. I’m looking for George 
and I couldn’t resist interrupting. I never can 
resist doing the wrong thing.” 

Madam laughed. “ ’Twas not the wrong 
thing. Mistress Dalton. For here is one who 
longs to help you hunt for George — and not 
find him.” 

I foresee the ending of our friendship, Mr. 
Halowell,” the girl cried gaily. ‘‘ Madam de 


36 Clayton Halowell 

Laurent, if you hear reports of Mr. HalowelFs 
scandalous attendance upon me, be sure to 
know that I am discouraging them mightily. 
Yes, George may be in the card-room, or on the 
terrace — ” 

Or in the garden,” suggested Clayton, of- 
fering his arm. 

“ Or in the garden,” assented the unblush- 
ing angel. 

And as the twain moved toward the door 
Olive sent the re-assembled court into convul- 
sions at her observations upon General Clin- 
ton's latest broadside from the south, and her 
comments upon the gowns she had noticed at 
the previous Assembly. 


CHAPTER III 


WHEREIN AN ENEMY IS MADE 

A QUARTER of ^ mile west of headquarters 
Clayton extricated himself from a precarious 
position between a broken battery wagon and a 
group of children gaping at a troop at -drill in 
the pasture near the Guard’s hut, and turned 
into a steep lane which ambled from the New- 
ark Pike to the Whippany — and only reached 
the river after many aimless twists and abrupt 
curves. 

In the bend of the last of these twists, as 
peaceful as a buffer of one hundred rods of 
thick timber and a roll of steep hill could make 
it, nestled a tiny, vine-covered cottage. A patch 
of lawn sloped from the rear porch to a line of 
willows on the river bank; and a flagged walk 
started at a hitching-post in the road and led 
between two syringa bushes to three low 
wooden steps and a green door. Halowell had 
fastened his horse to the hitching-post, trav- 
37 


38 


Clayton Halowell 


ersed the flagged walk, and was beating a sub- 
dued rat-a-tat upon the door before a man 
could conveniently have counted ten. 

And before a man could conveniently have 
counted ten more a slender young lady was 
holding back the door. Indeed, there was a 
promptness about the opening of the door 
which, to a suspicious mind, might have con- 
veyed the idea that the young lady had been 
watching for her visitor. 

I almost fear to ask permission to enter/’ 
said the Major. “ There’s such a thing as 
wearing out one’s welcome, you know.” 

I do not know. If you have come for 
George, prepare for a disappointment. He has 
gone to Hanover — ” 

Do I usually come arrayed in my dress 
uniform to see George?” interrupted Clayton 
severely, and followed his hostess into a room 
opening off the hall. In size the apartment was 
extremely limited; in coziness it was palatial. 
The furniture was covered with flowered cre- 
tonne; there was a multitude of early blossoms 
on the spinnet, the center table, and the mantel. 


m 



** Shall I tell all. Oh, Potent Divinity ? ” — Page 39. 





I 




An Enemy is Made 


39 


Two windows looked out upon the shady lane. 
And a huge bow-window which was a perfect 
garden of geraniums and purple petunias, 
looked toward the river. Mistress Dalton 
seated herself in this latter bower and her guest 
drew forward a chair. Far down the valley 
were the untidy huts of the cantonments; be- 
yond was a cavalry vidette crawling up Horse 
Hill. Clayton wondered why there were such 
things as armies and videttes when one could 
be utterly happy and peaceful without them. 

“ Now tell me all the news,’^ commenced 
Mistress Dalton, producing a book of silks and 
an embroidery frame from some mysterious re- 
cess in the window-box. Where have you 
been and what have you been doing — since yes- 
terday ? 

“ Shall I tell all, oh. Potent Divinity? ’’ 

All ; nothing must be omitted.’^ 

Then — let me see — after Madam de Laur- 
ent's I went to the Goat and won three guin- 
eas (shilling a throw) which I promptly lost to 
Manderson of the Tenth New Jersey on my 
bird. This morning I drilled and was on duty 


40 


Clayton Halowell 


at headquarters. After mess, home I went to 
don my most fascinating attire that a certain 
Mistress Jocelyn Dalton, spinster, might be 
duly impressed with my numerous charms.” 

“ Mistress Dalton is deeply honored at being 
the cause of so flattering a thought. But how 
is it that George hasn’t time to go to the Goat ? 
And why should he be so busy when everyone 
else has time to waste ? ” 

“ Well, you know, fellows on the staff have 
to work harder than we on the line do.” 

Then it’s not fair,” asserted Joyce, and 
pulled a ravel viciously, as if it were the foun- 
tain head of the law she objected to. “ I de- 
clare, when I was with Aunt Mary in Phila- 
delphia I saw more of George than I do now. 
What did I come here for if not to keep house 
for him? And when he’s always away, where 
is the sense of keeping house at all ? ” 

'' Because a fellow is on the staff and can’t 
call his time his own, is it reasonable he should 
be deprived of the comforts of a home? I might 
further add, in all humility, that one’s friends 
should count as well as one’s brother.” 


An Enemy is Made 


41 


Joyce looked up and laughed. They do — 
a little. But when a girl has an exceptional 
brother she must hunt far for a friend on his 
plane. 

I suppose so/' asserted Clayton dutifully, 
and changed the subject and inquired about 
Aunt Mary and the Philadelphia household, 
admired the new petal of the embroidery, and, 
when the shadows drew their veil across the 
sun and blurred the work, proposed a song. 
The spinnet was consequently opened; and to 
the accompaniment of the thin, sweet strains 
Joyce sang of summer skies and laughing 
waters. Often her companion smiled at the 
loud amazement his occupation would have ex- 
cited in his comrades of the Goat. They would 
have wondered, with many oaths, if this Clay- 
ton Halowell, turning music pages in response 
to a vigorous Now ! " was the Clayton Halo- 
well whom they knew and drank with. As, 
however, Halowell wondered on the same 
score, it is doubtful if he could have enlightened 
his friends. 

Joyce was holding a high note and clutching 


42 Clayton Halowell 

for a particularly complicated chord when the 
knocker sounded. In an instant notes and keys 
were forgotten. With a cry, Perhaps it^s 
George ! '' she flew into the hall. The desertion 
caused Halowell to remember that the mess 
hour was near and that a soldier has duties 
other than basking in the smiles of a pretty 
maid. With a lingering look at the flower- 
bright little room, at the spinnet and it’s tum- 
bled heap of music, and the embroidery on the 
window-seat, he walked toward the door. Be- 
fore he could reach it a dialogue in the hall 
petrified him. 

George is not home, Mr. Borden.” 

“ Then Til wait.” The answering voice was 
thick and unsteady. Then I’ll wait, pet.” 
^^Mr. Borden!” 

No, no, dear ! — Harry. Harry I am to m’ 
friends, and Harry I’ll be to — ” 

A stifled cry raised the embargo on Halo- 
well’s muscles. He reached the door in time 
to see Joyce writhing in Borden’s grasp; and he 
reached the struggling forms in time to whirl 
the man around and shake him until his broad. 


An Enemy is Made 


43 


heavy face was purple. Then he flung the con- 
tractor into the garden, closed the door, and 
turned to the weeping girl. 

“ Has he ever come before in that — that con- 
dition ? he asked, his voice strangely hoarse. 
Yes, once.^’ 

And your brother — ” 

But he never did this before.” 

And he never will again. He may sell oats 
a cent cheaper than the others of his kind, but 
George shall know of his — peculiarity, or I’ll 
be struck dumb ! ” 

Joyce dried her eyes. You must not tell 
George, Mr. Halowell, it would annoy him 
so. And Mr. Borden has to come every day 
about the fodder. If I thought I were inter- 
fering with George’s business I — I would never 
forgive myself. Indeed I would not.” 

'' But Mistress Dalton — ” 

I’ll stay out of his way when he comes 
hereafter. And — won’t you stay to choco- 
late?” 


CHAPTER IV 


WHEREIN FIGURES A PIECE OF PAPER 

You^re a fool!’^ Halowell nodded with 
conviction at the keen brown face reflected in 
the triangle of looking-glass which adorned 
the north wall of his hut. You're a most 
damnably stupid fool, Clayton, my man. 
You're playing with fire, neglecting old friends, 
and allowing to slip a golden opportunity of 
advancement in your chosen profession. And 
it's all for the pleasure of chasing a butterfly." 
With which announcement the Major washed 
the lather from his face, dispatched his orderly 
to the stable with strict injunctions to groom 
Bucephalus with extra care, and turned to the 
serious business of dressing. In their sequence, 
coat, belt, gauntlets and chapeau were scruti- 
nized in a vast and minute hunt for possible 
dirt or rust; and when finally he had passed 
upon the articles and arrayed himself therewith, 
44 


45 


A Piece of Paper Figures 

and swung into the saddle, he was pleasantly 
aware that he was as sleekly-groomed as the 
horse — which was saying much, for Major 
Halowell’s word was idolized law in Major 
Halowell’s battalion. 

It was three o’clock in the afternoon and a 
beautiful day. The sky was cloudless and the 
sun painting the shadows of the budding trees 
in rich purple tints upon the sward. Recent 
rains had brought the spring green into the 
fields and upon the multitude of trees which 
stretched in vast waves down the valley. Farm 
and tent and hut clothed the slopes and mead- 
ows. Many forms peopled the roads, and Hal- 
owell’s back was a constant curve of bows from 
the moment he turned into the Newark Pike 
until he reached the head of the steep lane 
which led to Paradise. 

He was turning at this point, a glow of an- 
ticipation tingling through his heart, and the 
world seeming very bright, when Madam de 
Laurent cantered past, a vision of brown 
plumes and velvet, a court, as usual, close at her 
side. Major Halo well made a humble salute 


46 Clayton Halo well 

— and was rewarded by a slight (a very slight) 
inclination of the beautiful head. The cut was 
so patent and so public that it pulled him up 
sharp. Then he shrugged his shoulders — and 
nullified the effect of the careless gesture by 
spurring down the lane with quite unnecessary 
viciousness. 

His vanity was still smarting when he ar- 
rived at the cottage. While he rattled the 
knocker and waited for the call to be answered, 
he thought ruefully of the days when he had 
been the envied cavalier to ride at Olive’s side 
and reap her smiles. In throwing away sub- 
stance for shadow he had — ^but here Joyce 
opened the door; and what Major Halo well 
had or had not done must remain forever his 
own secret. 

He noticed, with truly preternatural keen- 
ness that the girl was unusually radiant and 
wore an unfamiliar dress— one cut low at the 
neck and smothered with ribbons and ruffles and 
draperies. She reminded him of one of the shep- 
herdesses which decorated Madam de Laurent’s 
salon, minus the simper with which those crea- 


A Piece of Paper Figures 47 

tures were bedecked, and he almost forgot the 
substance in the sight of the shadow. 

“ Am I then, an ogre? Joyce laughed, and 
Halowell was suddenly conscious that he was 
staring. “You had best enter or my death 
will be upon your head.’' 

“ Heaven forefend ! ” 

“George, as usual, is away; Mr. Borden 
carried him off directly after dinner. But I’ve 
a—” 

The words were lost to the visitor, for, near 
the flowered bay window, in his chair, sat a 
man — a cornet — a mere subaltern. A blue 
coat and buff waistcoat showed this interloper’s 
trim, boyish figure to great advantage. He 
arose as the new guest advanced, and in the 
stream of mellow afternoon light which flooded 
through the window stood a slender, graceful, 
curly-headed soldier. Clayton gave one look 
at the handsome face and Joyce’s softly bril- 
liant eyes, and forgot Olive and his wounded 
vanity. With the girl’s, “ Mr. Halowell, this 
is Mr. Winslow,” hammering in his brain, in his 
ears, in his heart, he rebuffed the youth’s at- 


48 


Clayton Halo well 


tempt to shake his hand by a stiff bow. In his 
heart he would have found a savage pleasure in 
trampling this stripling’s face into the mud of 
the regimental sink. A hatred, quite foreign to 
the careless good-nature which was his usual 
state, took forcible possession of his soul, and 
darkened the sunlight and clouded the rippling 
river and the many-tinted world that peeped in 
through the round window. 

Mr. Winslow and I used to play together : 
and it’s four — five years since I saw him last,” 
Joyce was saying when Halowell’s faculties be- 
came normal. George told me he had a com- 
mission and was in Morristown. But he’s 
been here two days and never called.” 

I — began Winslow, when a stern ges- 
ture from his hostess silenced him. 

‘‘No excuses : facts are plain and easily read. 
You’ve been here two zvhole days. That’s 
enough to convict anyone. Is it not, Mr. Hal- 
owell?” 

If Clayton had been better acquainted with 
women (the creatures who followed the army 
and those found in the public inns not being 


A Piece of Paper Figures 49 

entitled to the sacred name), he must have 
known that cause for jealousy did not exist. 
A woman does not declaim to the world, nor to 
the man she loves, the supreme happiness of her 
life. But he, through ignorance, accepted 
smiles and pretty pouts as evidence conclusive 
of the presence of love. Until that moment he 
had doubted that he actually loved Jocelyn. 
The appearance of this rival swept the doubts 
clear of his heart. He had played with fire 
and was like to be burned. He said, You 
must be glad indeed to see an old playfellow,” 
and bent over the spinnet to hide his face. 

‘‘ It’s like a sight of short frocks and pig-tails 
and dirty hands and mud pies to see him,” de- 
clared Joyce. Remember what beautiful pies 
I used to make on the flat rock in the brook, 
Dick, and how you pushed me in once — ” 

“ And your father caned me and I threat- 
ened to get ‘ even ’ when I was a man? ” 

‘‘ And the time you baptized me in the rain 
barrel and caught croup and nearly died?” 

“ And you rode Gillie and were caught ? ” 

“ I should say I was caught — and scolded 


50 Clayton Halowell 

and bread-and-watered and sixth-chapter-St. 
Luked for a week ! It was scandalous, though, 
you know, riding a Shetland pony in broad 
light- 

And so it went. When one dropped the ball 
the other took it up and tossed it back freighted 
with the recollection of some escapade more 
absurd than the former. And all the while 
Halowell sat in his strange chair with murder 
in his heart and a smile on his lips. Joyce’s 
voice was a continuous ripple of laughter — the 
gay, sweet sounds he had grown to consider 
his own. At length, long before the reunited 
playmates had exhausted their store of anec- 
dotes, he found he could trust himself no 
further. No, he could not stay for chocolate; 
he was expected at the Goat. He made his 
adieux, climbed into the saddle, and without a 
backward look at the peaceful, sun-bathed cot- 
tage, and the puzzled little face gazing after 
him from the door, galloped away. 

Bucephalus, maddened by an unaccustomed 
spur, dashed down the lane. The throng on 
the highway parted hastily to give the strain- 


A Piece of Paper Figures 51 

ing nag and the white-faced rider the right 
of way. Many heads turned wonderingly, 
and not a few men called for the news — 
which must be of importance to send a man 
flying at breakneck pace over April roads. Had 
the French fleet been sighted? Was the army 
to move at last? Had Charleston been re- 
lieved? Was there — . But the questions fell 
upon a deaf ear. Sphinx-like and rigid Halo- 
well swept past Headquarters, into the village 
and out of it again, and into the comparative 
desertion of the Elizabeth road? The sound 
of his hoofs drew yelps from every passing dog, 
and curses from the pedestrians who were not 
agile enough to escape the muddy showers the 
flying hoofs scattered; patrols, respecting the 
uniform, pulled up and saluted; pickets left 
their fires and kettles to crowd along the road 
and cheer — at what, neither they, nor anyone 
else could tell, except that there is something in- 
spiriting in the sight of a mad brute and a per- 
fect seat; and women called shrilly from win- 
dows to know if the Hessians were coming, and 
men bawled the same question from the fields. 


52 


Clayton Halowell 


Past them all, with never a look, sped Halowell, 
into the open country, and the wind and the 
darkness — away from the pretty, slender boy 
and the merry, dimpling maid ! To Hell itself, 
so that forgetfulness could be gained. 

The gasps of his foundering horse finally 
warned him that the limit of brute endurance 
had been reached. He pulled up with a savage 
jerk, furious with the desire to harm, to curse. 
How dare this boy come between him and his 
love ! How dare he ! 

And then, treading on the heels of the first 
violence of jealous pain came that desire for 
comfort and companionship which leads so 
often and so easily to broken hearts and the 
divorce courts. A man’s wife is nagging or 
tactless or slovenly, and, though the man may 
love the woman, the instinct that craves for 
sympathy and a confidante springs into exist- 
ence, too strong to be resisted. To Halowell 
the emptiness of the world was as vastly ap- 
parent as it has been to every disappointed 
lover. The thought of returning to his soli- 
tary quarters was repugnant ; the Goat, with its 


53 


A Piece of Paper Figures 

smoke and rattle and laughter was even more 
jarring. He pitied himself and desired pity. 
Respectability was a sham; he would cast it 
aside ! His old life was open to him ; he would 
beg Olive de Laurent’s forgiveness for his 
transient falling away and be gay with the old 
gaiety. 

There was a rustic gate in Madam de Lau- 
rent’s stable-wall which, not so many weeks 
before, had been even more familiar to Major 
Halo well than was the grassy lane which had 
of late daily led him to the quiet cottage on 
the river bank. At the end of an hour’s ride 
he pushed through this gate and tethered his 
exhausted horse to a nearby tree. The path 
through the kitchen garden led straight to the 
south end of the rosery and to a door almost 
hidden in an angle of the wall. Halowell pro- 
duced a key, shot the bolt, and stepped into a 
narrow corridor. Blackness confronted him, 
but with a confidence auguring a strange famil- 
iarity of the place, he strode forward. A vel- 
vet curtain blocked the end of the passage. 
Upon his brushing the hanging aside, Madam’s 


54 


Clayton Halo well 


wainscoted, berugged hall appeared. A 
lighted candelabra on the table near the door 
enabled him to noiselessly cross to, and ascend, 
the stairs. 

At the head of the flight a carpeted passage, 
cut on one side by high windows and on the 
other by numerous doors of carved walnut, 
extended into the heart of the building. Hal- 
owell crept to one of the doors and crooked his 
finger to knock. 

Before, however, flesh and wood could col- 
lide, a stealthy click, as of a boot-heel on a bare 
floor, changed the tenor of the intruder’s 
thoughts. A tiny jingling of spurs following 
the harsher sound caused him to smile grimly. 
So this second midnight visitor was not a thief, 
but a rival ! As if by a magic potion his heart 
was cleansed of its desire for consolation. At 
the same time, his position was anything but 
enviable, and there being no way out of the cor- 
ridor other than that by which he had entered 
it, he sprang to the nearest window and buried 
himself in the folds of the hanging. That he 
would never again be principal in a like ex- 


A Piece of Paper Figures 55 

perience was the theme of a very heartfelt 
prayer. 

The newcomer must have possessed an ex- 
ceptionally keen sense of hearing, for his steps 
ceased with Halowell’s maneuver. Presently 
he restarted; and though he stopped at the 
creak of every joist the man himself finally 
came into view. He was muffied in a cloak 
which concealed his figure as effectually as a 
wide traveling hat, pulled over his forehead, 
masked his features. A naked sword, which 
flashed to guard at the slightest pretext, pro- 
claimed the man’s caution. Once (as he was 
passing a chair near Halowell’s hiding place) a 
piece of plaster fell in the walls and in a twink- 
ling he was stabbing at the blackness beneath 
the seat. An instant later he came to his 
senses; and with a shame-faced curse desisted 
and crept on his mysterious way. As he 
brushed past Halowell felt a whimsical desire 
to pull off that mask-like hat and learn who it 
was who had supplanted him. The feat could 
have been accomplished by the mere stretching 
forth of an arm; and all that saved the man 


56 Clayton Halowell 

was the fact that his sword and spurs were of 
regulation military pattern. A sense of the 
fitness of things held Halowell’s hand. The 
man passed on to Olive’s door. Thus do we 
lightly spurn opportunities which Providence, 
in divine forethought, places in our direct 
path. 

It was only a long step from Halowell’s 
hiding-place to the door before which the 
stranger stood. When the man’s knock was 
answered, the fact that he was not Madam’s 
only guest came as rather a shock to the un- 
willing, though not uninterested, watcher. He 
could see into the room. And what he saw was 
a long table drawn into one corner of a cosy 
boudoir, and a heavy man sitting before the 
table reading from a roll of tissue paper. This 
second man nodded to the newcomer without 
looking up, like a person absorbed in his work. 
Then the heavy walnut swung noiselessly, a 
bolt scraped, and Halowell disengaged himself 
from his curtain and wondered why Olive 
should entertain Mr. Henry Borden and the 
stranger at such an hour. Nature and his mil- 



The find was a lawful prize, and Halowell carried 
it to the window, — Page 57. 





57 


A Piece of Paper Figures 

itary training had made him both inquisitive 
and suspicious. He was half resolved to stay 
and see the adventure through. A faint no- 
tion of honor, however, and a stronger realiza- 
tion of the discomforts of early drill following 
a sleepless night turned his face down the hall 
toward the stairs. 

As he passed the chair which had been the 
cause of the stranger’s display of swordsman- 
ship, a spot of white glimmering in the dark- 
ness of the cushions arrested his attention. 
Mechanically, he stooped and picked up a tiny 
square of folded tissue paper. The find was 
a lawful prize, and Halowell carried it to 
the window. In the upper corner was the 
rough drawing of a compass ; in the lower was 
a column of figures ; in the space between these 
figures was a series of lines and dots and crosses 
which had the appearance of random memo- 
randa. Something, however, in the arrange- 
ment of these latter hieroglyphics struck the 
Major as being familiar. He looked closer, 
made a mental comparison, and then ripped 
out an oath more expressive than respectable. 


58 


Clayton Halo well 


For in a flash he realized that he was in pos- 
session of a hastily drawn but marvelously de- 
tailed map of the American lines from the 
Hudson to Princeton. 


CHAPTER V 


WHEREIN IS DEMONSTRATED THE USE OF 
A WINDOW 

After his first surprise Halowell stood in a 
brown study, twirling his prize between his 
fingers. The mere fact of possessing a map 
of the lines was not necessarily proof of wicked 
intent; yet it was sufficiently unusual to cause 
thought and a train of ideas bearing on the 
almost unbroken record of disasters which had 
culminated in the destruction of Allen’s com- 
mand and the treachery rumors. As has been 
said, Halowell was both suspicious and inquisi- 
tive, but he was finally forced to reject the 
vague connection between the before-mentioned 
disasters and the possession of the paper. 

Absurd ! ” he muttered. Impossible ! ” 
and stared at the map as if in hope of deriving 
information from its bewildering array of char- 
acters. ‘‘ I’d be barking up the wrong tree if 
59 


6o 


Clayton Halowell 

I got that notion in my head. But — he 
glanced toward the door through which the 
stranger had passed, and then at the map, and 
again at the door — “ I’ll have a look just for 
regularity.” 

The ‘‘ look,” however, produced no result 
other than the unsatisfactory discovery that 
something (presumably a hat) had been hung 
over the keyhole. And the walnut paneling 
being sufficiently thick to cut the conversation 
on the further side into disconnected fragments, 
the peeper should, by all the laws of humanity, 
have been properly discouraged from further 
investigation. Unfortunatelv, in the distribu- 
tion of Nature’s gifts, Clayton Halowell had 
been bestowed with a vast amount of determi- 
nation — ^perhaps to the omission of certain of 
the other gifts. The determination now 
stretched him flat on the floor, and the omis- 
sion of the certain other gifts set his ears hard 
to the crack above the threshold. When he 
arose from the undignified position his coun- 
tenance betrayed the most intense amazement 
and rage. 


Use of a Window Demonstrated 6i 

Who’d have suspected ! ’’ he muttered. 
“ ril find out who the third one is. With that 
little item of information — ” His thin nostrils 
dilated and his eyes blazed with a rather cruel 
triumph. ‘‘ With that little item of informa- 
tion it will be nothing short of a miracle if my 
star does not bud.” 

To descend the corridor and the stairs, and 
regain the hidden door in the rosery wall was 
the work of very few seconds to Halowell. But 
here he paused. There might be sentinels 
where he was going ; and his pistols were in the 
holsters of his saddle, the long length of the 
rosery and the kitchen garden from his hands. 
Should he — could he — spare the time and get 
the weapons. He calculated rapidly, decided 
in the negative, and consigning the fire-arms 
to the care of His Satanic Majesty, and any pos- 
sible watcher to the wrath of the same gen- 
tleman, stepped into the open air. 

The dark, rustling trees which encroached 
upon the very eaves of the house offered fine 
cover for a sentinel and Halowell unsheathed 
his sword by way of preparing for the worst. 


62 


Clayton Halowell 

The thought of turning back, however, never 
so much as entered his head. In the first place, 
the affair was an adventure; in the second, it 
was rich in the prospect of reward. And what 
twain could be more of a spur to a man ? 

Halowell had never before realized how 
large Madam de Laurent’s house was, nor how 
numerous were the box hedges (calf high and 
easily tumbled over) which ranged themselves 
in numberless geometric pitfalls along the 
walls. No sooner would he escape one of these 
hurdles when another would make itself un- 
pleasantly apparent. Yet, as in the nature of 
things, even box hedges have an end. And 
the sight of a parallelogram of light in the win- 
dow of what he knew to be Olive’s boudoir, 
partially repaid the bruises on his shins and the 
ruin of his uniform. And what ills the light 
did not salve, the magnificent Wisteria garland- 
ing the wall in which the light shone, did. 
The vine was not invitingly secure as a specta- 
cle but Halowell went up its main stem hand 
over hand in most approved marine style. 

Below the lighted window he slackened his 


Use of a Window Demonstrated 63 

pace to a cautious wriggle and brought his 
eyes level with the sill. To all intents and 
purposes the room was deserted, for the table 
was drawn into a corner out of range of the 
window. 

Having satisfied himself that to hang on slip- 
pery stone many feet above the ground was, 
under the circumstances, a useless expenditure 
of muscular energy, Halowell dropped back 
to the assistance of the creeper and a friendly 
gargoyle, and debated whether to return to his 
old position in the hall or remain where he 
was. While in the throes of this debate a 
practical demonstration of acoustics assured 
him that it is infinitely less difficult to hear 
through the many crevices of a window frame 
than the one crack of a door. The immediate 
cause of the knowledge was the sputter of wax 
as if a letter were being sealed. The sound 
was as distinct as if the operation were taking 
place in the airiness of his own uncomfortable 
perch. And, as if a further test were necessary 
to assure him of the value of his discovery, a 
voice (Borden’s, he knew), said briskly. 


64 


Clayton Halowell 


There ! thafs done — Now Madam ! ” 

In response to the invitation contained in the 
latter exclamation Olive began to speak. Long 
before she was finished the watcher's few 
doubts had given place to certainty, and his 
many misgivings to fury. He could kill a 
man cheerfully blade to blade, but deliberate 
murder was no part of him. And this which 
he was overhearing was as much deliberate 
murder as the blow itself. 

Though, during those minutes, Halowell ran 
the whole gamut of passion, he never forgot 
his character of eavesdropper. On the con- 
trary not one syllable escaped him of Olive's 
enumeration of the number and position of the 
troops in and about Morristown ; the continued 
lack of ordinance stores and commissary sup- 
plies ; the disaffection of the Pennsylvania line ; 
the absurdly inadequate guard of the newly 
arrived artillery at Hanover; the date the 
French fleet was due to arrive; or the fact that 
Lafayette was supposed to have in his posses- 
sion a treaty from Louis. Every scrap of gos- 
sip or information her guests had let fall or she 


Use of a Window Demonstrated 65 

had gleaned by question and observation Olive 
retold. When she ceased speaking Halowell 
groaned at the thought of how he himself 
must have contributed to this record many 
times. 

“ And thafs done,” repeated Borden. ‘‘ A 
good night’s work, to be sure.” 

The last remark passed unnoticed and there 
was such a long silence that Halowell presently 
began to fear the meeting had adjourned. In 
a cold chill at the thought of his mission in- 
complete he drew himself to the sill again and 
peeped into the room. The sight of the end of 
a skirt and a spurred boot reassured him. He 
slid back to his gargoyle, content to bide his 
time. 

“ For God’s sake, Borden, leave off trim- 
ming that quill ! ” exclaimed a tremulous voice, 
just as the Major had resettled himself, and 
which he placed to the credit of the timid new 
comer. “ Get this business over ! ” 

At once, at once,” said Borden, the rustle 
of paper punctuating the suavity of his answer. 
‘‘ Haven’t quite gotten over your nervousness, 


66 


Clayton Halowell 

have you ? But Lord knows we’re safe enough 
here. Eh, Madam? — Now! Have any plans 
been made to reinforce Lincoln?” 

'' De Kalb may go with the Maryland line.” 

Scratch, scratch sounded the quill. 

‘‘ Is Heath’s brigade strong enough to with- 
stand an attack supported by the sloops in the 
river? ” 

Yes.” 

Scratch went the quill again. 

And then, as rapidly as the questions could 
be asked, answered and transcribed to the 
paper came: — “What is Putnam’s strength? 
Have any orders been sent to the cavalry in 
Connecticut to break camp? Have Stirling’s 
troopers been supplied with mounts to replace 
those lost during the winter ? Have the picket 
guards at Elizabethtown been moved, or is 
the report merely a ruse? What are the pros- 
pects for the success of a raid into South Jer- 
sey? What is the object of the movement of 
troops toward the Highlands — is it to attack 
New York?” And the unhesitating answers 
to each and every question were eloquent of the 


Use of a Window Demonstrated 67 

answerer’s knowledge of the inner workings 
of the army machinery. 

Nor were politics forgotten. When the mil- 
itary situation had been thoroughly threshed, 
a concise statement was prepared of the job- 
bery, peculation and jealousies which rent camp 
and Congress; of the insubordination of many 
of the leading generals; of the senseless, irri- 
tating policy of the Legislature in respect to 
every order of the commander-in-chief. Plans 
which Halowell knew must have originated at 
headquarters were dissected, and opinions on 
the discouragement of the men at their con- 
tinued inaction and lack of pay, expressed. 

With the final reading of the report the lis- 
tener blanched. It was so clear, so pitilessly 
accurate a record of poverty, discord and weak- 
ness that Clinton could not but use it to deadly 
advantage. And its usefulness to the British 
commander was not the least of its vicious 
qualities. Mr. Conway’s cabal was still hot in 
the minds of the public; another series of dis- 
asters would, in all probability, point the 
charges contained in that document and prove 


68 


Clayton Halowell 


the undoing of the Man whom Halowell wor- 
shipped even above Mistress Dalton and his 
ambition. 

With the conviction that these plotters must 
be destroyed before their machinations had un- 
dermined his idol’s well-deserved prestige, 
there arose to HalowelFs mind a vision of the 
sweet-eyed, dignified, courteous gentleman who 
had shaken his hand as an equal before the 
whole army {his hand; that of a mere trooper, 
with not the best of records for subordination) 
and presented the commission and spoken the 
kindly words that had roused him from him- 
self. He felt a sort of wonder that anyone, 
knowing the General, could deliberately seek his 
ruin. Of the ruin of the army as the chief sta}^ 
of the Republic he thought little. To him the 
army was simply a vehicle freighted with ex- 
citement and the opportunities a peaceful life 
did not contain. For the joys of commerce 
and accumulation were not for Halowell. The 
wild race through ploughed fields or along 
muddy highways, hurrahing and waving a 
stained sword; the crash of the charge; the 


Use of a Window Demonstrated 69 

fierce exhilaration of the game wherein a slip 
means death; the return down a cheering line 
with a guidon or a color to swing — that was 
the essence of life as he viewed it. To have 
this snatched away just as its sweetness was 
becoming indispensable, was a catastrophe the 
mere thought of which bred fury. 

‘‘ There’s nothing more to-night.” Halowell 
regained his mental equilibrium and recognized 
the fact that perturbation occupies the mind to 
the exclusion of the other senses. You won’t 
forget to copy the Connecticut dispatches ? ” 

Borden’s reminder was evidently addressed 
to the stranger, for the tremulous voice de- 
manded sullenly : Have I ever forgotten 

them ? ” and without awaiting an answer con- 
tinued : '' Are you ready to go ? ” in a way that 
was eloquent of a desire to be gone. 

Taking his cue from the words, Halowell 
climbed again up to the sill. Borden was walk- 
ing to the door and removing his hat from the 
knob. The mysterious muffled stranger was 
bidding Madam good-night. It was clearly 
time to descend. 


70 Clayton Halowell 

And here, for what can honestly be classified 
as the first time in his career, Halowell bungled. 
His limbs were stiff with cramp and cold; and 
vegetation and leather care nothing for the des- 
tinies of states '|ior the comfort of individuals. 
Because of this laxity, and also because of a 
feverish fear of missing his quarry, Halowell, 
instead of reaching terra-firma decently on his 
feet, found himself on his back amid dripping 
dahlias and petunias and holly-hocks, with the 
wind all knocked from his body. For a second 
he could only lie still and gasp. Then the 
thought of his mission pushed through the haze 
of his semi-insensibility. Bruised and shaken 
though he was, he clambered to his feet. The 
house was dancing an ungainly hornpipe and 
the trees were all blurred into one whirling 
blackness. 

He had no recollection of attempting to do 
more than stare at these freakings of nature 
when a rustic bench grew out of the mist and 
wavered into his path. Then the thing leaped up 
at him, hit him so as to produce the roaring of 
a hurricane in his ears; and blackness, absolute 
and complete, descended in a thunder-clap. 


CHAPTER VI 


WHEREIN HALOWELL PAYS A CALL AND MA- 
DAM DE LAURENT DESTROYS A LETTER 

The pallid light of a rainy April dawn was 
streaking the hill-tops and the Heavens when 
HalowelFs senses shook free of their unnatural 
lethargy. It was drizzling and his head 
throbbed as madly as after a long night at the 

Goat.’^ Minutes passed before he could do 
more than idly watch the water roll off the 
edges of the box beside him and wonder where 
he was. When, however, the events of the night 
returned, the consciousness of failure engulfed 
all bodily pain. 

As he limped through the mist-wrapped gar- 
dens and climbed into his dripping saddle, he 
sought to compose his thoughts and arrange a 
plan of battle. His foes were crafty and un- 
scrupulous. To denounce Borden and Madam 
de Laurent on the simple evidence of his word 
7 ? 


72 


Clayton Halowell 


would not only be stupid policy but would al- 
low the most important plotter (he who had 
supplied the greatest amount of news) time 
either to escape or cover his tracks. Immature 
thoughts of seeking Olive at once and demand- 
ing the name of the conspirator, of threatening 
Borden with instant denunciation if he did not 
disclose the traitor’s identity, crowded hotly 
into his brain, and were only banished when 
cooler second thoughts showed them in their 
true absurdity. Any attempt to force the con- 
spirators’ hands would result in closing the 
only direct channel of information. Figuring 
the problem out by cool calculation, Halowell 
concluded that passive activity must be the key- 
note of his actions. Eyes and ears must be kept 
alert; Borden and Olive watched; and the To- 
ries in the neighborhood spied upon closely. 
With a muttered curse on the mischance which 
had picked upon him to unravel this tangled 
skein of treachery, he bent to the storm, spurred 
his jaded, muddy mount, and trotted heavily 
toward camp. 

Early as it was, the world that lay in the hill- 


A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 73 

encircled valley was stirring. A shivering, 
yawning relief tramped down the sloppy road, 
too sleepy to spare a glance at the dishevelled 
horse and rider it passed. An orderly, un- 
shaven and red-eyed, galloped out of the mist 
and rain, and disappeared into it again. A 
squad of dragoons, convoying a forage wagon 
and several lean cows, clattered from a lane. 
Bugles wailed in the cantonments, and long 
lines of men and horses crept to the river. Then 
the sun straggled through the clouds and the 
second of brightness was utilized by the guard 
to run up the headquarters’ flag. And the camp 
was awake, ready for another day of weari- 
some waiting while Congress squabbled and 
enemies destroyed. 

Halowell’s regiment was hutted in a hollow 
on the side of Mt. Kemble, at the extreme east- 
ern end of the camp. His hut was the last in 
the regimental line, from its threshold the 
fields and woods of the unoccupied country 
stretching in a long dip to the line of elms that 
marked the Princeton Pike. It looked less in- 
viting than ever in the rain and the state of it^ 


74 Clayton Halowell 

owner’s mind. Halowell clambered to the 
ground, gave his horse to an orderly, and threw 
himself, booted and spurred and wet as he was, 
upon the cot which, with a portable shaving- 
stand and a crazy, home-made table, constituted 
the principal articles of furniture the one 
draughty, tobacco-and-leather-fumed room 
boasted ; and with set lips and eyes icy hard, he 
threshed the situation again. 

On two points he was baffled; the first, the 
knowledge of the complicated politics, the rings 
and inner rings, which whirled the camp and 
Congress and made publicity of his secret an 
impossibility: for where the stone he set roll- 
ing might strike, and what idols it might shat- 
ter, he had no way of knowing. Nor could he 
court publicity for a second reason — none less 
than Olive’s life. To seal the woman’s fate be- 
yond redemption, to be the agent by which she 
would be polluted by the cord and cap made 
him shudder, grimly determined though he was 
to break the plot and banish the plotters. It 
seemed as if he were in a maze and must grope 
for the exit indefinitely. 


A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 75 

Even, however, as the great Alexander cut 
the Gordian knot, so did the Major solve his 
riddle. 

“ By God, ril do it ! ” he muttered, after a 
spell of thought had drawn lines about his 
mouth and hardened his usually careless coun- 
tenance. And again, more soberly, “ I’ll do 
it ! ” he said, as he rose and changed his wet 
uniform. 

An hour after morning drill the blue-plushed, 
gold-corded, ebony footman who kept Mad- 
am’s hall ushered Major Halo well into the 
small salon, and departed to apprise his mis- 
tress of her visitor. Halowell had discarded 
his uniform for a civilian suit, as more appro- 
priate to the irregularity of the occasion; and 
the figure he cut in the wine-colored coat and 
shorts, the white, flowered waistcoat, and the 
gold-trimmed, feathered beaver was sufficiently 
elegant to justify his dispassionate admiration 
of himself in the pier glass between the win- 
dows. The waistcoat was not as fresh as it 
had been the previous year, and the lace on the 
beaver showed signs of many burnishings. But 


76 Clayton Halowell 

despite these drawbacks he knew he looked well 
— and was not ashamed to own it. 

“ Then it really is you,” Olive said, as Halo- 
well bowed at the door of her boudoir. And 
by some paradox the flattering eagerness of her 
voice smothered the vanity which had but the 
previous moment glowed in the visitor’s broad 
breast. 

“ Yes, it is I,” he said, and crossed to the 
window to gain time to arrange his thoughts. 
Across the river were the chimneys of Joyce’s 
cottage, smoking through the surrounding 
chestnut grove. Beyond the pencil of smoke, 
over the brow of the hill, a flag was reflecting 
the sunlight like a great noonday star. And up 
and down the valley were the scarred fields, 
each boasting a row of log huts or a clump of 
stable sheds or some manner of shanty for man 
or beast or gun. The sight was familiar enough 
to him, but he studied it long and carefully. 
Olive on her part, toyed with a vase of flowers 
and endeavored to prevent her happiness from 
shining in her eyes. She was clad in a trailing, 
fleecy gown of pink, which was all lace and 


A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 77 

frills and bunches of ribbon. The curves of her 
waist and bust were emphasized rather than 
concealed by the dainty covering, and her eyes 
were pools of wonderful softness. When Halo.r 
well turned and saw them he wished fiercely 
that he had never conceived the idea of seeking 
pity in this haven of beauty — and frailty. 

‘‘ Pm going to ask a stereotyped question,’' 
he said, abruptly. 

Quite needless — we are alone.” 

Then,” he crossed and frowned into the 
smiling face. Then I can speak freely? 
There must be no eavesdropping, for your 
good.” 

“ Good gracious ! ” cried Olive, raising her 
hands in mock alarm. “ For my good. Then 
I am not to hear that you have run your colonel 
through, or that your tender violet has been 
plucked ? ” 

I haven’t come to discuss myself.” The 
bantering reference to Joyce was ill-advised, 
for it hardened Halowell’s heart. You — 
See here, Olive, I’ll not beat about the bush. I 
know what you are doing here and I’ve come to 


78 


Clayton Halowell 


warn you, in defiance of my oath and duty, to 
get yourself clear. I’m devilish sorry it should 
have been I who had to stumble upon the game. 
But now that I have stumbled, the only course 
I have is to report at headquarters. You must 
leave Morristown. You can work up a sud- 
den call to New York to see a dying friend, 
or to dance at Knyphausen’s May Day ball, if 
you wish. A spy is not handled with gloves.” 

Olive’s face did not change in one line; but 
she threw back her head, which was the only 
sign she vouchsafed of understanding this 
thunder from a clear sky. 

Halowell waited a full minute for an answer 
and then seated himself deliberately on the end 
of a divan and smoothed his hat. 

“ You heard me? ” he said, gently. 

“ I heard a stream of very incoherent words 
— a threat I suppose I am to construe it.” 

Not a threat, Olive, a warning.” 

Madam de Laurent courtesied low. “ How 
very chivalrous. But you may recall the warn- 
ing, sir. Really, Clayton, you are ridiculous 
at times.” 


A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 79 

“You won’t be guided?” 

“ And leave comfortable quarters — ” 

“ Which are maintained by English gold ! ” 
Halowell interrupted, in a sudden flash of rage. 
“ God knows how many American lives these 
‘ comfortable quarters ’ have cost ! ” 

“ You take much for granted,” said Olive, 
coldly. “ If you can prove that I am — what 
you do not hesitate to name — produce your 
proof to the proper persons and have done with 
it. And if you are in doubt as to the proper 
person, I would suggest the Provost.” 

The defiance allowed Halowell a glimpse of 
the difficulties in store for him. Olive must be 
very sure of herself to thus challenge him on 
his own ground. And yet, for all her boldness, 
the woman knew her companion well enough, 
and his reputation for dogged perseverance 
well enough, to know that nothing short of 
cold steel would turn him from the path upon 
which he had blundered. 

“You are determined it shall be war?” he 
said. He had risen, and Olive had drawn her- 
self up to her full height confronting him. They 


8o 


Clayton Halo well 

were a well-matched pair, the lithe-limbed, 
strong- jawed man and the cool, clever woman, 
whose wonderful beauty was a better charm 
than the man's sword. Had you not better 
reconsider? You are forcing a very ungallant 
role upon me; and I may not be able to save 
you when the truth comes to light." 

“ I may not be able to save you, Clayton, 
during the time when the truth is coming to 
light." 

'' Hm ! " Halowell continued for a few mo- 
ments longer to pay a deal of attention to his 
hat. “ ril take the risk," he said at length, and 
looked into his companion's eyes. “ There’s a 
moral side to the matter I won't discuss, morals 
not being much in my line. But when a man 
finds a parasite sucking the very life of that 
which he not only loves, but which is his bread 
and butter, his rank and position in society, he 
fights. You understand, he fights, Olive ! I've 
done my best to save you. If you won't be 
warned you must bear the consequences." 

“ Are you trying to ‘ save ' me, Clayton, be- 
cause you were pleased to admire me once. 


A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 8i 

many hundreds of years ago ? ” asked Olive, 
and gave a short laugh and plucked a flower 
slowly to pieces. “ What a queer animal man 
is, to be sure. And thanks for your good in- 
tentions and advice. It was very kind of you 
to consider me. But I think I shall not go.” 

The decision meant many things to Halowell 
— dangers which could only be guessed at, an- 
noyances and discomforts too numerous to be 
grasped in one thought. Yet he admired the 
woman's pluck. He would have acted in the 
same manner under similar circumstances ; and 
one loves a kindred spirit if only for the rarity 
of the specimen. 

“ That is your final answer ? ” he said. 

Olive nodded; she dared not trust herself to 
speak. In all her life she had never so desired 
a man's love as she desired this man’s. His de- 
parture meant the end of an epoch in her life. 
She felt numb and cold at the mere thought of 
losing him. 

Then I need detain you no longer, Olive,” 
Halowell said, and arose from the divan. “ I 
shall unwind the workings of this pleasant 


82 


Clayton Halowell 

arrangement you and friend Borden have 
developed so nicely — unless, of course, I run 
into a strip of cold steel some dark night; I 
shall be obliged by my oath to lay my knowl- 
edge before His Excellency; and there you 
have the programme. Don’t think my motives 
worthy commendation,” he continued, relaps- 
ing into a strain of cynical frankness quite in 
accord with his feelings. Don’t think that, 
Olive. I freely confess to not being one of the 
enthusiastic fools who imagine the earth will 
cease to revolve if we don’t whip King George. 
But, you see, if we are whipped there will be 
no army, and no commission, and no Congress 
to owe me money. That’s a trinity of nega- 
tives at which I balk and shudder. I’ve grown 
absurdly fond of respectability during the past 
two months.” 

Since you went to Philadelphia, why don’t 
you say, and speak the whole truth ! ” flashed 
Olive; and before her companion could reply, 
continued : “ I shall not plead my cause, Clay- 
ton, nor do you the honor of denying my work. 
I am here in the interest of the British govern- 


A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 83 
■ / 

ment — which can take care of itself just as I, 
its humble instrument, shall take care of my- 
self. You and I have been — friends all winter. 
That is past now, if you will it so. Your duty 
lies in hanging me. Well, hang me if you can. 
But I shall protect myself. You warned me; 
now we are quits.’' 

The forced calm had vanished and Madam 
was her unbridled self, beautiful, tigerish, as de- 
fiant as was ever captive queen to insolent con- 
queror. Yet through her defiance there rang 
a pain as deep as ever seared a woman’s heart. 
And Halowell, hearing the note, needed all he 
had of fortitude and devotion to his Com- 
mander to keep the course he had mapped. He 
took the woman’s hand and kissed it gravely. 

We have made our mistake, Olive, and I 
humbly ask forgiveness of mine to you. You 
are acting up to your principles, and who am 
I to judge that principle? We must go our 
ways. Good-by.” A second time he kissed the 
hand he held. Then he bowed and was gone, 
and Madam de Laurent was a statue listening 
to a firm tread growing fainter on the stair. 


84 


Clayton Halowell 


The crunch of hoofs came from the drive be- 
fore the woman changed her position. With 
the sound she drew a long, sobbing breath, and 
stirred as if her muscles were bound in iron. 

“ It has come ! It has come ! ” she muttered, 
and repeated the phrase time and again, until a 
sudden frenzy of action dispelled the passive 
acquiescence to Fate the words implied. Cross- 
ing to her desk, with feverish energy and a 
wrinkle in her forehead half of ferocity, half 
of agony, she selected a sheet of plain paper 
and dashed off the following: 

‘‘ Major Halowell knows all. See that he 
is—’’ 

The sentence ended in an aimless scrawl and 
a passion of weeping. 

‘‘ My God! Not that! Not that! ” the wo- 
man whispered, reading a deadly peril in the 
eight words she had penned. “ I — I can’t do 
that!” As if to avoid a temptation or destroy 
a hateful object, she suddenly tore the unfin- 
ished note into fragments. For quite a minute 
she was motionless save for a twitching in her 
lips and the tumultuous heaving of her breast.' 


TIT' 





‘‘ Major Halowell knows all. 


See that he is . ” 

— Page 84. 




A Call Paid — A Letter Destroyed 85 
■ / 

Then she rose, white-lipped, tottered to her 
bed-room, and closed the door gently. 

And to the end of his days a certain tall in- 
fantry Major who, at the moment of Madam’s 
retirement, was riding moodily toward camp, 
remained in ignorance of the narrowness of the 
margin by which certain death had passed him 
by. 


CHAPTER VII 


WHEREIN ARE RECORDED SEVERAL OCCUR- 
RENCES 

When Halawell left Olive his hopes of 
making good his threat to destroy the conspir- 
acy were at a dishearteningly low ebb; but 
when, at the end of a week devoted to the run- 
ning down of clues which ended in nothing, 
and to the tracking of Borden and Borden’s 
friends on errands of unquestionable inno- 
cence, he was ready to doubt the prudence of 
attempting to carry out his plans single-handed. 
In spite of feverish and untiring activity and 
complete disregard for the possible complica- 
tions hinted at by Olive, nowhere could he find 
proof of the treason which was his objective. 
And all the while the treason was making cer- 
tain and more certain the destruction of the 
man Clayton Halowell idolized and the break- 
down of the vehicle by which Clayton Halowell 
86 


Several Occurrences Recorded 87 

I 

had elected to roll himself into power and af- 
fluence. 

Under the continual strain of his disappoint- 
ment and vexation even his duties grew irk- 
some; and when the seventh morning after his 
interview with Olive he was ordered to Han- 
over for picket inspection, the fact that the duty 
would entail absence from the seat of his in- 
vestigations came as near to disheartening him 
as his nature would allow. 

A series of petty delays kept him in Hanover 
twelve hours longer than usual, and it was not 
until the day following his departure that he 
was free to turn homeward. The previous 
night having been the first he had missed from 
his posts behind the wall opposite Borden’s 
house and the shrubbery surrounding Madam 
de Laurent’s mansion, the certainty that events 
had transpired, simply because he had not been 
present to take cognizance of them, spurred 
him on the road with a lover’s eagerness. 

Midway between Hanover and Whippany 
the highroad bends broadly in a half-mile arc, 
and skirts a wide stretch of marshland. The 


88 


Clayton Halowell 


head of the arc was the crossroad of an unused 
bridle path which led diagonally across the 
marsh and cut a mile from the two to Morris- 
town. Ordinarily caution and a regard for the 
scarcity of horseflesh would have pointed the 
highway as Halowell’s path. But in his im- 
patience to assure himself that his fears were 
realized he turned into the woodland road and 
in an instant was engulfed in a mass of arching 
foliage and a damp, rustling silence. The scent 
of the wet reeds and roots, and the far-away 
call of birds soothed his spirits. He suddenly 
became aware that he was dispirited and rest- 
less. His mind, in spite of his efforts to pre- 
vent it, strayed to the cottage in the lane and 
to the companionable little maid who presided 
therein, and whose image, also despite his ef- 
forts to prevent it, was in the habit of crowding 
into his heart to the exclusion of worldly idols. 
Even now the laughing, winsome idol was in 
its accustomed place. Was he actually — Did 
he love — 

‘‘ Let her have her baby-faced boy ! he mut- 
tered between his teeth; and proceeded to 


Several Occurrences Recorded 


/ 

demonstrate, with much elaborateness of detail 
and argument, that the quiet of the sitting- 
room and the comfort of the afternoon cup of 
chocolate was what he missed more than the 
companionship of the hostess. Disappointed 
ambition and not despondent Cupid, was pluck- 
ing at his heart. 

A shrill neigh put a period to Major Halo- 
welFs arguments by forcing upon him an inter- 
est in his surroundings. The wood was very 
thick and encroached upon the path to such an 
extent that for two horsemen to have ridden 
abreast would have been an impossibility. 
Water, moss and green slime were deep upon 
the sides of the path, beyond which great 
knuckles of rock formed shallow valleys and 
sharp grades in a wilderness of rank vegetation. 
Occasionally the trees were sufficiently far 
apart to allow glimpses of the landscape; but 
the glimpses showed a vista so desolate, so un- 
healthy and boggy and unstable that Halowell, 
after hasty preparations for a possible emer- 
gency, decided the sound he had taken to be a 
neigh had been in reality the call of a bird. 


90 


Clayton Halowell 

The decision had no more than been reached 
when it was shattered by a second equine greet- 
ing that came from a dense patch of rhododen- 
drons almost directly beside Halowell. The 
Major was off his horse pulling it to shelter in 
an incredibly short time. The mud and his 
slow pace had muffled his approach, he was pos- 
itive; and that there should be a horse in the 
loneliness of this marsh was, to say the least, a 
singular circumstance. 

Barely had Halowell gained the shelter of a 
boulder and gripped his nag’s muzzle to stifle 
its answering neigh, when the rhododendrons 
swayed and the sight of a broad, heavy face 
inspired him with an unholy joy. The face was 
that of Mr. Borden, contractor of oats to the 
Third Division of the Continental army; and 
Mr. Borden’s eyes and pose were those of nerv- 
ous, startled guilt. A minute he stood glar- 
ing up and down the path; then, cursing the 
timidity of his horse, he shoved a pistol beneath 
his coat and disappeared. No splashing ac- 
companied his departure, which fact betrayed 
to the astute watcher the existence of a path 


Several Occurrences Recorded gi 
■ / ^ 

behind the rhododendrons. And in a further 

access of joy he almost forgot that he was 

standing ankle deep in green slime and that 

home-made patches are not always water-tight. 

Borden had been gone several minutes before 
Halowell, with infinite caution, stole back to 
the road. Two minutes later Bucephalus was 
contentedly munching the buds on an impro- 
vised hitching-post behind a line of willows, 
and his master was wriggling his lithe body 
into the path which, as he had surmised, lay 
behind the apparently impassable hedge of rho- 
dodendrons. The contractor’s horse was in a 
recess a pace from the head of the path. In- 
voluntarily Halowell paused and glanced back 
to see that his retreat was secure in case the ani- 
mal betrayed him. The precaution, however, 
proved unnecessary, for, after a long stare, the 
beast returned to its browsing. 

The faithless sentinel had no sooner dropped 
his eyes than Halowell was past. The path was 
a steep tunnel of green, and ended on the edge 
of a shallow basin completely masked by sur- 
rounding hillocks. A turbulent brook, the 


92 Clayton Halowell 

drain of the marsh, rattled through the depres- 
sion. On the bank, near where it gushed from 
the tangled trees, was a hovel, and Borden and 
a little, lean old man. The former was talking. 
Halowell scrutinized the surrounding vegeta- 
tion, and, seeing nothing to excite alarm, bent 
his whole attention upon the conversation be- 
low. 

There wasn^t as much as a pigeon in 
sight,’’ Borden was saying. The nag 
screeches on every foolish occasion. Here are 
the reports,” and he handed his companion a 
packet at sight of which the Major’s finger 
curled longingly over his trigger. It would be 
so easy to pot the scoundrel ! Only the realiza- 
tion of the fact that the killing of the man 
would be largely in the nature of slaying the 
golden goose, prevented the shot. 

“ And now I’ve another matter to speak of,” 
Borden continued, when his companion had 
stowed the packet carefully in an inner pocket. 
'' It’s partly private business, but it’ll pay you 
fifty guineas, Fletcher, if properly attended 
to.” 


. ^ Several Occurrences Recorded 93 

The old man looked up quickly. ’Twill 
pay, you say ? Then out with it ! ” 

“ It concerns him — the last one, you know, 
— Madam’s recruit. I want him to pay a debt 
for me, and incidentally to remove an enemy of 
us all.” 

Not specially straight directions, if I may 
say so.” 

“ But enough if supplemented with details. 
You’re a clever man, Fletcher, and gold is not 
so plentiful that you’ll sneeze at a chance of 
making some.” 

“ Poth ! Where’s the sense of beating in the 
bush ! ” cried Fletcher, impatiently. “ Tell me 
the chance and I’ll attend to the sneezing, you 
can lay to it. We’ll — No, sink me! Now I 
come to think on it. I’ll have the chance writ in 
black and white. You needn’t be feared,” he 
continued, as Borden exclaimed he would see 
some one further before he’d write a word on 
paper. Muffle your fist if you will. But I’ve 
a certain method of business which I learned 
in London, sir, many years back, gentlemen 
being apt to forget things when it comes 


94 Clayton Halowell 

to a pinch with the constables asking ques- 
tions.” 

Apparently Borden recognized the stolidly 
obstinate note in his companion’s voice. With- 
out attempting to argue he strode into the hut. 
Fletcher remained blinking at the brook until 
he reappeared. 

“ The paper’s on the table, names and every- 
thing. Work it any way you like, only keep me 
out of sight.” 

“ And when do I get the fifty guineas? ” 

“ When the thing’s done. I’ll take the re- 
ceipt for the dispatches Thursday. Good-by ! ” 
and Borden strode up the incline to the path 
through the rhododendrons, in an apparent ill- 
humor at the other’s cool insistence. Looking 
neither to the right nor to the left he unhitched 
his nag, and, after reconnoitering the road, 
mounted. 

Not before the splash of hoofs had ceased 
did Clayton breathe. If his horse had neighed 
or rustled the bushes, or if Borden had glanced 
at the trampled mud of the path, hopes of re- 
trieving a former clumsiness and obtaining pos- 


Several Occurrences Recorded 95 

■ I 

session of traitorous correspondence intact 
would have met, if not defeat, at least a set- 
back. But now the road was clear ; and boldly 
appearing at the edge of the dip, Halowell ran 
into the valley. 

The door of the hovel opened when he was 
still some yards distant, and the old man 
stepped into the sunlight. 

“ Mr. Borden sent me back for the papers,” 
said the Major, after a polite, “ Good day to 
you,” had failed to charm the suspicion from 
the old man’s sharp little eyes. 

“ What papers ? ” interrupted the custodian 
harshly. 

‘‘ The packet for New York. I’m to add to 
it that — ” 

“ Have ye the pass-word — well, yes or 
no!” 

Nay, but—” 

‘‘ Then off ye go,” snapped the man and 
slammed the door — and found his visitor’s foot 
on the threshold. 

“ No use,” said Halowell. ‘‘ I want the 
papers.” 


96 Clayton Halowell 

To the Major’s surprise Fletcher stepped 
aside and held open the door. 

“ You want the papers, do ye? ” he snarled. 
“ Then find them.” 

Halowell commenced his search with a busi- 
ness-like promptness, and ran his hand over his 
prisoner’s coat and made him remove his 
boots and stockings. The papers, however, 
were not forthcoming, so he turned to the 
search of the single room the hovel contained. 
The mattress of the truckle-bed, the bed-clothes 
themselves, the cupboard above the fire-place, 
and even the floor and walls were scruti- 
nized by a pair of eyes which, for sharpness, 
had no peer in the army. But in spite of 
thoroughness, not so much as a muster-roll 
came to light; and Halowell, after an hour 
of unremitting labor, was scowling down at 
a wrinkled, triumphant old face, confessedly 
baffled. 

“ By all the furies ! I’ll make you give them 
up ! ” he muttered, and whipped out a pistol 
with a mouth sufficiently grim to emphasize the 
threat. “ Tell me where — ” 


Several Occurrences Recorded 97 

“Ay, it be grand air,’’ Fletcher mumbled. 
“ Grand air indeed ; fine air.” 

“ None of that damned nonsense ! You’ll 
dangle high as Haman, my man, if I have to 
report this to the Provost.” 

“ Ducks is fond of water ; none will gainsay 
it, sir.” 

“ Zounds ! ” frothed Halowell ; and then 
stopped and, sharp as was his disappointment, 
burst into peal upon peal of laughter. “ A 
pretty kettle of fish, ’pon honor ! ” he gasped, 
mopping his eyes. “ A major of infantry coz- 
zened by a wrinkled old go-between ! And coz- 
zened neatly too, by the Lord! Well, how 
much do you want for the papers ? I’ll listen to 
a fair price.” 

“Fair? Where may there be a fair, sir, 
these days ? ” 

Halowell ignored his companion’s irrele- 
vancy. “ Thirty guineas I’ll bid. Thirty won’t 
do ? — then forty — fifty. Come ! that’s as much 
as Borden offered for his mysterious work. You 
ought to entertain the bid for that reason if for 
none other.” 


98 


Clayton Halowell 

Only the flashing of the old man’s eyes be- 
trayed his interest in his inquisitor’s words. 
His lips remained tightly closed; and even 
when the sum of one hundred guneas had been 
reached and offered they were in the same state 
of uncompromising rigidity. 

“ Sink me ! ” Halowell exclaimed, admir- 
ingly. “ You’re an obstinate old devil, Fletch- 
er. I can’t strap you, much as I’d enjoy the op- 
eration — ” 

“ And you can’t find anything here,” the 
man vouchsafed, that’ll help you get what 
you’re looking for.” 

In spite of the declaration, however, and in 
the teeth of his previous failure, Halowell ran- 
sacked the shanty a second time before ac- 
knowledging the truth of the statement. 

I think you’re right, Fletcher,” he said, 
when failure had attended him again. ‘‘ I think 
you’re right, and I’m sure you’re to be com- 
plimented on your hiding places. But next 
time I may have better luck.” 

Regaining his horse, Hallowell mounted 
and resigned himself to the mapping out of a 


Several Occurrences Recorded 99 

fresh campaign which this new clue made pos- 
sible. The conspiracy was evidently huge and 
of clock-work perfection; and as his thoughts 
led him through a tangle of plan and counter- 
plan, of plot and counterplot, he left pace and 
road to Bucephalus’ choosing. 

An equine peculiarity is a retentive memory 
for localities in which food and idleness 
abound. Sometimes this trait is embarrassing, 
as, for instance, when one is driving the bishop 
home and the nag insists upon visiting every 
tavern in which the groom has at some time or 
other sampled hospitality; or when one is out 
with the Newest One and the brute swerves 
suggestively at the Old One’s gate. Bucepha- 
lus’ Nemesis was a certain narrow lane heavily 
shaded with chestnuts and for which he enter- 
tained fond recollections of long afternoons 
and juicy oats. After hesitating decently as 
becomes a self-respecting and docile animal, he 
gave way to temptation. Feeling no restrain- 
ing hand he jogged comfortably over a carpet 
of dried leaves, content in the knowledge of 
well-doing. When his master finally ceased to 


LafC. 


lOO Clayton Halowell 

stare at the pommel and evolve schemes for the 
capture of presumptuous scoundrels, and the 
aggrandizement of worthy patriots, he had 
stopped at the foot of a familiar flagged walk 
and was sampling one of two flanking syringa 
bushes, and gazing wistfully at the lawn 
that sloped to the line of willows on a river 
bank. 

What the master saw was quite different. 
He skipped the lawn in preference to a dashing 
green-and-gold chariot in the road, and the 
syringa bushes for an imperiously beckoning 
little figure in a window. An instant he vacil- 
lated between obstinacy on the one hand and 
inclination and curiosity on the other. When, 
however, inclination and curiosity pull together 
the conclusion is foregone; consequently the 
reader will not be surprised when it is recorded 
that Major Halowell, in spite of recent assev- 
erations to the contrary, dismounted and as- 
cended the flagged walk. 

“ I really should not speak to you for a most 
uncivil gentleman,” Joyce said, when the new 
guest had bowed to Madam and responded to 


Several Occurrences Recorded lOi 

her greetings. “ It is a week since I had the 
honof, sir.’’ 

That Mistress Dalton should be piqued on 
such a score is indeed a compliment.” Some- 
how Halowell’s anger would not stay in his 
heart; and the sight of the mignon little face 
and mobile red lips robbed him of his dignity. 

“ What pretty sentiment,” cried Olive. 
‘‘ Does Mr. Halowell call often, dear child? If 
he does, take the advice of an old woman ” 
(Olive could say it charmingly) “and do not 
trust a soldier because he has been fortunate, 
enough to have secured occasional dances and 
shown one the beauties of the mid-Jersey hills.” 

“ But I don’t trust him for that,” protested 
Joyce innocently, and looked puzzled when 
Olive laughed. “ He was so kind while I was 
in Philadelphia, and took such good care of me 
on the way here when George said I could 
come, that gratitude, if nothing else, would 
make me glad to receive him.” 

The significance of the “ if nothing else ” in 
the explanation did not escape either Madam 
de Laurent or Major Halowell. The former’s 


102 Clayton Halowell 

mouth hardened ever so slightly, and the lat- 
ter's dignity became completely swamped in a 
joy he did not attempt to smother. 

Gratitude, my dear," said Olive smoothly, 
“ is a dangerous commodity — What a sweet 
tidy ; did you work it ? I must learn the stitch. 
And what tremendous geraniums! A slip, if 
you love me; Neb shall plant it to-morrow in 
my window-box. And you've an invitation to 
Lady Washington's ball for the thirteenth, I 
see. Wear the pink paduasoy, like a good 
child; it becomes you so well." And Halowell 
was compelled to look on helplessly while the 
older woman pinned Joyce fast by the fascina- 
tion of her tact and graciousness. 

The task in itself was not difficult, for most 
girls are as susceptible to the blandishments of 
an assured beauty of their own sex as are men. 
And it required no effort for Olive to charm. 
With swift intuition she singled out those 
things which were the girl's household gods, 
and proceeded to laud them. Her's was not the 
off-hand approval which is a symptom of en- 
nui; it was rather the careful, analytical pick- 


Several Occurrences Recorded 103 

ing apart, the unwilling admiration of an ex- 
pert who has met if not a superior, at least an 
equal. She examined each petal and leaf of the 
precious embroidery; she suggested the addi- 
tion of tulips to the flower-bed, which was 
Joyce’s especial care and pride; she reproved 
the girl for having sent regrets to a luncheon 
she had given, and declared that unless she 
rode with her the following afternoon peace 
between them would be impossible. Vainly 
Halo well strove to read the object of the flat- 
tery. Furiously he cursed himself for not 
using his knowledge to prevent a recurrence of 
the scene. When at length the siren gathered 
her wraps and declared that she must go, he 
made no effort to conceal his pleasure, and was 
promptly dealt a quid pro quo for the rudeness. 

No, no, Joyce (I may call you Joyce, may 
I not, dear?) — not another moment. Three 
quarters of an hour is not a formal call. Nor 
can I stay to chocolate, witch ! Mr. and Mrs. 
Arnold sup with me and I give you my word I 
do not even know what has been ordered, for 
Fve been gallivanting since noon. I shall ex- 


104 Clayton Halowell 

pect you to-morrow then. Good-by.’’ She 
kissed the girl — on the mouth, with a look 
which showed the Major the triumph she felt 
— and continued : “ Good day to you, Mr. 
Halowell. Shall I see you Thursday? — He 
used to visit me now and then, Joyce. But a 
newer and prettier face ! Dig up the gratitude, 
child. Good-by again ! ” 

As Halowell handed Madam into her chariot 
his bottled anger fizzed up. 

I only know one other person who is your 
peer at play-acting,” he said. The person is 
very old and very dirty, and he lives in a pig- 
sty of a hole near Hanover, but the art of dis- 
simulation is developed within him to a degree 
as wonderful as within you.” 

Indeed ! ” answered Olive, reaching for her 
scent bottle. Who is the paragon, pray? ” 

“ A certain Mr. Fletcher, who is a particular 
friend of Mr. Borden’s.” 

“Fletcher?” murmured Olive. She bent 
ostensibly to see that the lap-robe was adjusted, 
in reality to hide a sudden darkening of her 
eyes. “ So you have decided to bring old 


Several Occurrences Recorded 105 

Fletcher into your net. Who will be next — 
His Excellency or Mrs. Arnold? — Home, 
Jonas ! ’’ 

“What were you whispering about? 
Joyce asked, when Halowell was once more 
upon his settle and she was in the be-flowered 
bow-window. “ I thought you would never 
get to the end of your story. Nay, I do not 
really wish to know,” she went on primly, as 
her visitor frowned, “ if it causes you so much 
trouble to remember — The weather has been 
very pleasant, has it not ? ” 

Halowell damned the weather beneath his 
breath and said, “ Very,” above it. 

“ I suppose you have been busy? ” politely. 

“ Very.” 

“ And have not even been at the Goat? ” 

“ Not for a week, thank you.” 

There was a silence during which the girl 
stitched industriously and Halowell studied his 
sword-knot. Conversational topics being at a 
premium he observed presently, “ I heard of 
you as having been at the Assembly.” 

Yes, I was there — with Mr. Winslow.” 


io6 Clayton Halo well 

Whether the cut was dealt unconsciously or 
with intent to hurt, Halowell did not know. The 
uncertainty, however, did not make the smart 
less painful. He rose and walked to the spin- 
net and tumbled the music. If he could have 
seen the swift relentment that swept over his 
companion’s features he might have been less 
angry. Not having seen it, he raged inwardly 
at himself for a soft-hearted idiot who had 
given way to a temptation from which he had 
been all but freed. 

“ Did you enjoy yourself? ” he managed to 
articulate. 

Oh, ever so much ! But I wished you — 
That is, every one was very nice to me. Mr. 
Hamilton took me twice for the minuet, and I 
sat out a polonaise with Mr. Lee. Madam de 
Laurent was the belle as usual. Don’t you 
think she is beautiful ? And she’s so good, too ; 
she gave a hundred dollars toward the hospital 
fund yesterday and donated a dozen jars of pre- 
serves to the bazar.” 

Halowell did not feel he could conscien- 
tiously discuss Madam’s charitable qualities, 


Several Occurrences Recorded 107 

and hastened to change the subject by remark- 
ing, “ Someone said your brother returned yes- 
terday.” 

This topic was as unfortunate, in one way, 
as the other had been ; it drove every vestige of 
animation from the girl’s face. 

“ Yes, he’s returned,” she said. And he’ll 
have a fever from the worry of his failure. 
Dick says there’s some talk at headquarters of 
removing him from the staff ; as if he could help 
if a lot of nasty Highlanders (they’re horrid, 
red-faced, shaggy brutes anyway), shot his men 
when he didn’t expect them ! Have you heard 
anything about the removal, Mr. Halowell ? ” 

Halo well had heard about the removal — in 
connection with the utter lack of military pre- 
caution exhibited by Dalton as leader of a 
foraging expedition and the inexplicably care- 
less manner in which he had walked into the 
enemies’ trap — and had been savagely glad at 
the news. He had even gloated over the 
wretchedness of the few survivors of the expe- 
dition, which made their commander’s public 
disgrace the matter of hours. Joyce had hurt 


io8 Clayton Halowell 

him ; now she was to be hurt in turn. He had 
pictured her every look, her every thought un- 
der the stigma of disgrace, and had been un- 
happily happy. But now, when he had an op- 
portunity to turn the knife, for some reason he 
held his hand and deliberately said that he had 
heard no such absurd rumor. 

“ George is just sick with the disgrace,” 
sighed the girl, her mouth drooping and her 
eyes filling until the last trace of her visitor’s 
resentment gave way to a most disquieting pity. 

He didn’t want the command, you know, but 
they insisted upon his taking it. He was at- 
tacked just beyond Elizabethtown and — and 
I’m sure no reasonable man can blame him for 
not expecting enemies there.” 

No reasonable man will,” Halowell said 
soothingly. “ His Excellency never — ” 

But before any explanation of His Excel- 
lency’s doings could be made, the knocker 
sounded loudly and Winslow, waving a bit of 
paper, invaded the apartment. “ It’s to Lady 
Washington’s, for the thirteenth ! ” he cried, 
and Halowell incontinently fled. 


CHAPTER VIII 


WHEREIN MADAM PRACTICES DIPLOMACY 

Massa Dalton'’s waitin’ in de gilt 
‘ saloon 

The butler’s announcement fanned into flame 
a fury which had smouldered in Madam’s eyes 
since her parting with Mr. Halowell. She 
made a fierce step toward the salon door, hesi- 
tated, and turned her convulsed face to the 
servant’s stolid ebony one. 

“ Tell him I won’t see him ! ” she whispered, 
controlling her voice with difficulty. You 
can say I am ill — tired — anything you please. 
If he doesn’t go, call, the gardeners! No! ” as 
the servant prepared to depart. Wait — let 
him come to me in ten minutes. Tell Pom- 
pey I wish him to take a note to Mr. Borden’s 
at once.” 

Dalton’s ten minutes’ probation had evi- 
dently weighed on his nerves, for when he ap- 
peared at Olive’s door his color was that of a 
109 


no 


Clayton Halowell 


corpse, while his eyes, in horrible contrast, were 
glittering and desperate and panic-stricken. 
A contemptuous Hump ! ” and the pouring 
out of a glass of Hollands was his hostess' 
greeting. Cowardice was not one of her 
faults; and, like most people so constituted, an 
exhibition of the weakness irritated her. 

Fve more to lose than you," Dalton mut- 
tered, draining the liquor and savagely en- 
deavoring to steady his lips. 

When a man is driven too far the animal in 
him pauses and shows its teeth. The divis- 
ional line between fear and desperation is as 
fine as that which separates the sublime from 
the ridiculous. Olive recognized in her com- 
panion’s snarling voice and wandering glance a 
symptom which ordinarily she would have been 
far too wise to disregard. The worm threat- 
ened to turn, and as the worm was valuable, it 
should, by every rule of logic, have been paci- 
fied. But the fierce pain of Halowell’s fury at 
her kissing Joyce was eating cankerously in her 
heart and required an outlet. 

''You have more to lose!" she exclaimed^ 


Madam Practices Diplomacy iii 

so contemptuously that her miserable compan- 
ion flushed to his hair. “ I have been on the 
road this four hours trying to undo your blun- 
der. Then to be greeted with — oh! his un- 
endurable! Do you think staff appointments 
grow on bushes, or that fools are kept forever 
in places of trust? 

It was not my fault ! ” muttered Dalton, 
overlooking the fierce insult in an evident and 
feverish anxiety to justify himself with this 
hard judge. 

“ No, of course it was not your fault — even 
though the instructions read ^ check ’ and not 
^ destroy.' Is it in reason, do you suppose, 
that His Excellency would keep a bungler in 
his family ? I’m trying hard to make him, but 
I almost doubt if the trouble is worth the re- 
ward.” 

If you would only listen a moment, Olive ! 
The Highlanders didn’t heed the signal, and 
they had ball cartridge. That was contrary to 
the order. You must see it was as much their 
fault as mine. ' If you would only take me 
more into confidence^ I’d — ” 


Ill 


Clayton Halo well 

Land us on a rope’s end ! ” 

“ Fm no worse than others,” resented Dal- 
ton, roused at last. 

“ Nor better, if the truth be told,” Olive 
flashed back. “ But as that has nothing to do 
with us, we’ll not discuss it, if you please. The 
problem we have to solve is how to keep you 
on the staff after this fiasco.” 

The man made a dozen uneasy strides up and 
down the room, fear, repentance and apprehen- 
sion painted upon his white face. 

Would to God I had never met you ! ” he 
burst out, and his manner, more than his words, 
were evidence of his suffering. Fve done all 
I could for you; Fve told what I knew, and 
spied and pried and listened, to learn more; 
Fve been the cause, through that devil Borden, 
of many a desolate home and riddled corpse. 
They were my countrymen, too; my God! 
my own countrymen! Fm a spy, a miserable 
spy — a snake that should be ground into the 
dirt and spat upon ! ” He resumed his uneven 
walk and Olive stifled a yawn. This pawn’s 
futile remorse bored her. ‘‘ I did it all for 


Madam Practices Diplomacy 113 

you/' Dalton resumed, passionately, “ because 
I love you ! Pm not the first man who has been 
false to his country and his honor for a woman. 
But, by God ! I’ll do my penance ! I’ll — 
Olive, won’t you understand! It is your cru- 
elty that hurts. Give me my reward, and the 
army, the government, the world may be an- 
nihilated and I’ll be happy. Won't you under- 
stand, Olive?” 

Olive suddenly decided that she must under- 
stand; and as proof of her knowledge treated 
her humble rebel to one of those swift changes 
which, many times during similar scenes, had 
reduced to ashes his flickerings of conscience. 
Her long lashes sank, a smile broke through 
the clouds in her eyes and wreathed her mouth 
with brightest sunshine — and behold ! the 
virago had melted into a loving, lovely woman, 
beautiful enough and tender enough to have 
bewitched a more stable temperament than Mr. 
George Dalton’s. 

Ah, George, dear, I do understand,” she 
said softly/' and I ask you to forgive a nervous 
woman’s irritability. I have had so many 


114 Clayton Halowell 

things to contend with and worry me lately 
that,'" with an uncertain smile brimming with 
tears, “ that my temper is worn to a shred. 
Can you forgive me, dear? ’’ 

Forgive her! Dalton was on his knees in 
an instant, covering the listless hand with 
burning kisses and calling the owner his beauty, 
his queen, his darling, almost sobbing in the 
intensity of his love and thankfulness. 

Hush, hush, dear,’’ Olive whispered. “ I 
am not worthy. In time, perhaps, I may prove 
my worth ; but not now, not now.’' She passed 
her hand over her forehead. We must all 
work out our destiny, I suppose. Ours may 
lie together — who knows ? But you must bear 
with me a little longer. And now, do you want 
to learn of my mission? ” 

‘‘ I want to learn that you love me — that I 
am not all base in your sight.” 

We must clear you in the sight of the 
world first, dear George; my feelings cannot 
change,” which last was strictly true, though 
the construction George placed upon it was 
that of a fool in a fool’s paradise. ‘‘ But I shall 


Madam Practices Diplomacy 115 

tell you of my mission even though you inter- 
rupt with all the gallantries in man’s vocabu- 
lary. I have interested Mr. Arnold in your 
behalf, and he is to dine here to-night and tell 
me the result of his efforts. I think we’ll be 
successful, though the certainty is a matter of 
days yet.” 

A scrap of color stole into Dalton’s lips. 

I can never thank you,” he said, brokenly. 

My disgrace would have broken Joyce’s 
heart. If she knew — ” 

“ Now, now. I’ll not hear you revile your- 
self,” cried Olive, holding up a warning hand, 
which her companion caught and kissed many 
times, unchecked. “ As for thanking me, all 
I require — at present — is that you run away 
like a good boy. I’ve my toilet to make and 
my cook to scold — employment for two long 
hours, with only an hour in which to do it.” 

Dalton was jubilantly happy when he fin- 
ally obeyed the command. Never before had 
Olive been so tender, so loving to him. The 
days of his probation were drawing to a close, 
he thought, fondly; his constancy was begin- 


Clayton Halo well 


1 16 

ning to bear its fruit. What was honor, coun- 
try, friends, sister, to the love of Olive ? What 
was life itself without her? He kissed the 
hand she had held at parting and was utterly 
happy in his unstable heaven. 

The sound of boyish voices raised in alterca- 
tion rudely dispelled his dreams. 

'‘You’re a nigger!” one shrill voice af- 
firmed, only to be contradicted by the assertion 
that “ Youse dirty white trash I ” 

"I ain’t!” 

" You is an’ I’ll—” 

Smack ! Smack ! 

The sounds of battle emanated from the road 
ahead, and a dozen steps brought Dalton 
abreast belligerents hopelessly intermixed in 
the rough and tumble fashion peculiar to the 
personal encounters of boys and puppies. 

" How now ! ” he called, and the rolling ball 
resolved itself spasmodically into one white 
and one black boy. " What does this brawling 
mean! Don’t you know that the Provost can 
arrest you and hang you for disturbing the 
peace ? ” 


Madam Practices Diplomacy 117 

‘‘ Fo’ de Lord!” exclaimed the diminutive 
son of Africa. I di’n’t mean to disturb de 
peace, massa. Dat boy say I er nigger ’n dat 
he won’t play wiv me,” and a solemnly accusa- 
tive finger pointed at the panting white youth 
who had made the awful assertion. 

“ Well, y’ are a nigger I ” retorted the white 
youth, aggressively. “ My brother said you 
was and — ” 

“ There, no more ! ” Dalton had by now 
recognized the darkey as one of Madam de 
Laurent’s house servants. “ What are you 
doing over here. Pomp. Playing truant, eh? ” 

“ No, sah. I wa’n’t eben playin’ marbles, 
sah,” protested Pomp. I’se — Oh, Lordy ! 

Lordy ! it’s gone I ” 

The last was a frightened wail and Pompey, 
after fumbling through his pockets, com- 
menced to search frantically amid the weeds 
that had been the seat of the late war. After 
much calling upon Heaven’s mercy and many 
blubbering threats of vengeance to the unmoved 
author of his trouble, he unearthed a muddy, 
torn paper. The joy of the recovery was. 


ii8 Clayton Halowell 

however, more than counterbalanced by the 
condition of the missive; and the luckless mes- 
senger’s woe found expression in several dole- 
ful yells. 

Here, I’ll fix it,” Dalton said, good- 
naturedly. His mood was such that he would 
have helped a teamster in the discharge of his 
duties and called him a Godly comrade. Give 
the thing to me, you little scoundrel, and shut 
that bear trap of yours ! ” 

The note had become unsealed and was badly 
crumpled by boot-heels and the contortions in 
which its bearer had indulged. Dalton 
smoothed it out on his saddle bow, meaning to 
refold and enclose it in a fresh wrapper, a sup- 
ply of which were in his saddle-pocket. But 
he only carried out the first part of the pro- 
gramme for a word in the text, and then an- 
other, caught his eye. He did not fold the note. 
He gave a smothered cry, and, unheeding 
Pomp’s howls, galloped madly down the road. 

Olive was submitting to Yvette’s ministra- 
tions, her thoughts on many vexatious subjects, 
when the clatter of a galloping horse broke the 


Madam Practices Diplomacy 119 

thread of her reflections. Yvette reported that 
it was “ Monsieur Dalton,” and being wiser 
than Monsieur Dalton, was not surprised at 
her Mistress' petulant annoyance. 

“ You may leave me, Yvette,” Olive said, 
as her visitor entered. “Well, George?” 

Without answering, the man threw a soiled 
letter upon the dressing table. 

“ Well? ” Olive asked again, this time omi- 
nously quiet. 

“ What does that mean ? ” 

Olive glanced at the paper. “ 'Tis very 
plainly a note to Mr. Borden. Would you 
have me call it the Declaration of Independ- 
ence ? How did you come by it ? Am I under 
surveillance from you, too ? ” 

“ From me, too,” snarled Dalton. “ You 
never told me what — what you wrote in that 
note. I’ve been a dupe, a nonentity, a dummy, 
long enough ! I’ve worked in the dark as long 
as I intend ! Why wasn’t I told that we were 
being shadowed and that the business was all 
but discovered ? I want to know why I wasn’t 
told!” 


120 


Clayton Halowell 


Dalton s remarkable exhibition determined 
Olive upon her defense ; her eyes softened from 
violet to blue, and filled with tears. 

Am I never to have your trust, George ? 
What have I done to deserve this ? ” 

Done ! ” cried Dalton, furiously. Is it 
no slight to be treated like a child — I, who run 
the risks and — '' 

Olive lifted her head proudly. You will 
be sorry for those words,’’ she said. '' My 
worst fault has been to keep you in ignorance 
of this peril. If it be wrong to scheme to save 
those we love, then I cry my guilt. Yet I ask 
no forgiveness for it.” 

If Outraged Pride had still hotter coals to 
heap upon Repentant Suspicion, the coals were 
chilled by the complete abasement of the erst- 
while aggressor. It was ever the same story: 
the pawn’s intellect, as well as his love, was 
overshadowed, tricked, blinded by the clever- 
ness of the siren. Olive wished the task were 
more difficult for the sport of it. 

Give me my share of the burdens, Olive,” 
Dalton entreated, humbly. Tell me the name 


Madam Practices Diplomacy 12 1 

of the man who spies upon us. I’ll warrantj 
dearest, to cut his profit of the information.” 

Olive hesitated, her eyes ablaze, her breast 
heaving. Revenge is sweet ; and the picture of 
Clayton glaring at her for kissing Joyce was 
yet too recent to have lost a particle of its sting. 
She need only tell the truth (as was obviously 
her duty to her companions and her employ- 
ers), and her enemy’s body would decorate 
one of the numerous bogs in Black Swamp or 
rot in the pine-covered hills. Then, quite un- 
sought, there arose before her a clear-cut, 
bronzed, determined face — and she decided 
hastily that she cared nothing for the stability 
of the British government or the security of 
her companions; at least, not enough to pay 
the price. 

I do not know who it was, George.” 

“ Then,” there was a quick return of sus- 
picion in the man’s voice. Then how do you 
know we were overheard ? ” 

Olive had not thought of that, but her wit 
was more than a match for her companion. 

By the vine outside the window. Oh ! you 


1122 


Clayton Halowell 


can look for yourself if you do me the honor to 
disbelieve me. Open the window and satisfy 
yourself.” 

Dalton, half sheepishly, half sullenly, thrust 
up the window and saw that six feet below the 
sill the tracery of creeper was torn from the 
wall. 

'' And you don’t know who it was ? ” 

‘‘How should I? Wisteria is not more 
communicative to me than to other mortals.” 

“ But we can’t go on this way without even 
knowing our enemy ! ” said Dalton, with a fret- 
ful petulance that would have been unmanly in 
a child of ten. 

“ We must go on. Besides,” continued Ol- 
ive, “ the man can’t know much or we should 
have heard from him. He can’t know you ; he 
can’t know how we get our information; he 
can’t know how it is sent to Sir Henry ; in fact, 
he can have no knowledge of any real impor- 
tance, or which I cannot deny. What can he 
do except say he heard me talking treason to 
Mr. Borden, an old, respected citizen, and an 


Madam Practices Diplomacy 123 

unknown man ? Will Mr. Washington believe 
the tale, think you ? 

He might,” was the pessimistic reply. 

“ Then we’ll look on that side of the fence, 
and suppose he does. There’s a commission 
waiting for you in New York when you wish 
to change your coat or your politics. And 
now, perhaps, you’ll run away, satisfied with 
the smallness of your mountain. No! Not 
another word! Come to-morrow and we’ll 
talk the matter over again, if you wish; I 
haven’t time now.” 

The moment her companion was gone, Olive 
snatched the note from its silver and satin sur- 
roundings, and tore it into a hundred bits. The 
fragments she flung on the carpet and stamped 
upon savagely. 

I’m weak, weak; and it’s suicide ! ” she 
whispered, suddenly ceasing her energetic ac- 
tions. But I can’t do it — I can’t ! Fletcher 
must move. Yvette! .Yvette, I say! Why 
don’t you come and finish my dressing I ” 


CHAPTER IX 


WHEREIN FLETCHER EARNS FIFTY GUINEAS 

Meanwhile Dalton was riding across the 
valley toward town in a maze of most disqui- 
eting thought. He was suddenly conscious 
that he really knew nothing of the working of 
the machine of which he was a cog and Olive 
the engineer. There was little danger attached 
to his task of copying the messages that passed 
through the secret order-books at Headquar- 
ters, but there was also little outside knowledge 
to be gained thereby. Heretofore he had been 
content to bring his finished tasks to Olive in 
return for a vague hope of ultimately winning 
her love. Now, however, he paused and asked 
himself several pertinent questions, and was 
not satisfied with his inability to answer them. 

During his musings he crossed the bridge 
over the Whippany, noting (as a man might 
note the position of a log or the color of a 
stone), a shabby old man leaning on the guard- 
124 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 125 

wall. What he failed to notice, even care- 
lessly, was that this individual, after watching 
him enter the woods of the upland leading to 
the Newark Pike, started after him at a walk 
which was in utter variance to his apparent age. 

The man seemed in no hurry to overtake 
Dalton, and kept his distance until the village- 
green had been reached. Here he became a 
feeble old man again, but changed so bung- 
lingly that Dalton, conversing with a couple of 
artillery officers in the center of the square, 
saw the transition. 

Guilt is an inexorable task-master; and Dal- 
ton’s cheeks blanched. He was being fol- 
lowed, tracked, spied upon! A mist, broken 
by a vision of the hangman and black shame, 
clouded his brain. When it had passed, his 
terror was in no way relieved by the sight of 
the old man’s threadbare coat-tails disappearing 
into the lane behind the Presbyterian church. 
For an instant he lost his head and thought 
wildly of flight. Then calmer second thought 
pacified his unreasoning terror ; and in the pur- 
suance of the thought he bade his friends a 


126 


Clayton Halowell 


hasty “ Good-day and trotted away. At the 
Morris Hotel the commissary’s clerk was busy 
checking lists of stores, but Dalton took him 
into a back office and talked arrant nonsense for 
ten long minutes. At the end of this time he 
had persuaded himself that his apprehensions 
were groundless. Yet the instant he stepped 
into the street he beheld the shabby man (this 
time kneeling beside a wall removing a burr 
from his shoe), and every thought of conceal- 
ment whirled away in a flood of mad fear. 
With livid cheeks, dry throat and staring, sight- 
less eyes he went galloping up the road, spur- 
ring and sweating as if every demon of Hell 
were at his heels. 

Like a child whom terror forces to fly until 
soothed by exhaustion he crossed the open fields 
to the north of the town and dashed int6 the 
woods beyond. For hours thereafter the silent 
pines watched over a shaken, unnerved, and 
childishly-excited wreck of a man. When 
finally Dalton reached home, the sight of his 
haggard face frightened Joyce. She begged to 
be allowed to send for a surgeon. Her brother 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 127 

muttered shortly that he did not need a surgeon 
— that he was tired, not ill — and locked himself 
in his study. 

Meanwhile, the cause of his perturbation, 
after staring at the flying form of him whom 
he had started on so wild a career, hardened 
his evil, wrinkled, avaricious old face into a 
look of stolid contempt. 

‘‘ Frightened, eh? he commented. “ Then 
I must start again.’’ 

Retracing his steps past the Green and the 
church, the man trudged up the Newark Pike. 
A stone’s throw from the entrance of Dalton’s 
lane he scrambled over a dismantled wall and 
struck off toward the cottage, whose chimney 
tops were visible through the trees. Carefully 
sheltering himself from the observation of the 
inmates of the house, he gained the thicket of 
willows on the river bank, and for three mortal, 
chilly hours muttered curses on a booby afraid 
of his own shadow; stole furtive peeps at the 
quiet, sun-bathed cottage on the further end of 
the lawn ; and swept the roads within range of 
vision for sign of the runaway. 


128 


Clayton Halowell 


At length his patience was rewarded. And 
waiting only long enough to allow the bustle 
incident upon the master’s arrival to subside, 
he made a long detour and crept cautiously up 
to a window corresponding to the one in which 
Joyce and Clayton were wont to exchange im- 
personal views of life. The room into which 
he peered was small and littered with papers, 
whips, cloaks and pipes. Prone on the center 
table, fear in every curve of his bowed body, 
his wig awry and his face buried in his hands, 
sat Dalton. With a shrug of his shoulders 
and a quick glance to make sure he was unob- 
served, the old man tapped on the glass. 

As if he had been stabbed, Dalton raised his 
head and clutched the pistol which lay before 
him on the table. There was something inde- 
scribably menacing in the movement and the 
look of absolute desperation with which his face 
was drawn. The would-be visitor, nothing 
daunted, held up his hands as a sign of peace, 
and motioned that the window be opened. 
Dalton, still holding his pistol, reluctantly, but 
in obedience to the pantomimic suggestion, 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 129 

drew the fastening-pin from the sash and thrust 
up the window. 

‘‘What do you want?” he demanded, 
hoarsely. 

“ A word with you, privately.” 

“ Then say it quickly, damn you, and stop 
dogging me ! ” 

“We can talk much better when I am in there 
with you.” 

This suggestion fired Dalton's fright anew. 
“ ril shoot unless you say your say and be- 
gone ! ” he snarled, and raised his pistol. 

“ Even if I could explain what Madam de 
Laurent probably did not ? ” 

For a second the life of this applicant for 
admission was not worth a clipped penny. 
With a gasping, “ Who — who are you? ” Dal- 
ton had the man through the window and was 
standing over him with eyes made mad by 
terror. 

“ My name is Fletcher, sir,” replied the pros- 
trate man, composedly. “ We — I beg you will 
not handle that pistol so carelessly — ” 

“ What did you mean about Madam de Lau- 


130 Clayton Halowell 

rent?” Dalton’s voice was thick and his 
breath was short. Tell me what you meant, 
or, by God ! you don’t leave this room 
alive ! ” 

By way of answer, Fletcher struggled to 
his feet and whipped out a key, which he laid 
on a pile of enlistment blanks on the center 
table. 

Do you know what door that unlocks ? ” 
he asked. 

Dalton felt in his pocket and pulled out a 
key which was the first one’s counterpart, and 
took a dozen hurried strides before the fireless 
hearth, chewing his lip. “ Yes, I know,” he 
muttered, presently. '‘What does it mean?” 

" The owner was listening at Madam de 
Laurent’s window one night last week. This 
was picked up beneath the window. He must 
have heard something interesting, since he hung 
to the creeper two hours.” 

Dalton stared stupidly at the two keys. 
" Hung to the creeper ! Then — then this is 
not Mr. Borden’s key?” 

Fletcher’s eyes glittered ; the task was easier 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 13 1 

than he had dared hope. Mr. Borden, Mr. 
Henr'\f Borden?” he exclaimed. ''You think 
it may be his key? Then you don’t know; 
you have been on the ground five months and 
don’t know ! Oh, woman, woman ! ” He 
burst into a shrill laugh. " Why is the field of 
diplomacy barred to you? Why is your use- 
fulness confined to the distaff and — ” 

The visitor’s mirth terminated abruptly, with 
his host’s pistol grinning into his face and his 
host’s finger trembling upon a trigger. 

" If you don’t want a bullet in your head,” 
the tortured man hissed, " tell what this chatter 
means ! ” 

" No offense, sir. But a man in love is 
blind and no mistake I ” 

" What of the keys ? ” 

" Just that mine is the property of the man 
upon whom Madam has — shall we say be- 
stowed her favor? The man is not unknown, 
and it is a wonder to me you’ve remained 
blind so long.” 

" None of your cursed riddles ! 

" Well, then, sir, the gallant Major Halo- 


132 Clayton Halowell 

well and the beautiful Madam de Laurent 
are — 

Halowell ! ” interrupted Dalton. Halo- 
well! Why, he—’’ 

“ Has been a model of propriety for quite 
some time. But,” Fletcher leered, “ he carries 
the key of a woman’s house; and uses it, as I 
can swear.” 

Dalton had run the gamut of so many emo- 
tions in so few hours that he was incapable of 
more suffering. Neither could he doubt the 
truth of this well-informed stranger’s state- 
ment, every word of which coincided with con- 
victions he had harbored the winter past. He 
had never learned the identity of the rival he 
was certain existed; but that it was Halowell 
was more than probable. Indeed, he had only 
to look back at the time when the Major and 
Madam had been constant companions and he, 
fool that he was, a dupe fed by promises and 
careless scraps, to feel the absolute truth of 
Fletcher’s words. 

“ Have you told anyone of this? ” he asked, 
hoarsely, and motioned to the keys. 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 133 

Madam. That’s all.” 

You — you have told her ! ” Dalton did 
not want to be convinced that Olive was shield- 
ing Halo well at his expense. Yet, he repeated 
his question vehemently, and when Fletcher 
nodded affirmatively, dropped his head with a 
groan. 

Well, now you know,” said Fletcher, 
what are you going to do? Major Halowell 
doesn’t let grass grow under his feet, and he’d 
throw pretty near anything over to keep the 
army together. I know^ him well enough to 
know that, and he’ll act on what he saw the 
other night unless — ” the tempter paused sig- 
nificantly, '' unless you act first — forestall him, 
so to speak.” 

Dalton slowly raised his bloodshot eyes. 
Fletcher’s face was not a pleasant picture in its 
yellow, wrinkled cunning, but of the two faces 
it was vastly the stronger. Dalton fancied he 
detected traces of a sneer lingering on the man’s 
thin lips. He rose and restlessly crossed to the 
window. Across the river the thin shred from 
Olive’s chimney marked the preparations for 


134 


Clayton Halo well 


Mr. and Mrs. Arnold’s entertainment, and the 
culmination of the intrigue that was to bolster 
his tottering seat in His Excellency’s family 
and maintain the completeness of the spy sys- 
tem. Often, after the secret despatches had 
been written and sent, he had sat staring across 
the valley at that dun-colored blur, wondering 
hopelessly if he would ever earn his promised 
reward. To-day, the valley was particularly 
bright with the sun slanting over the hill and 
gilding the rows of huts, and the many flags, 
and the shimmering river. But the beauty of 
the picture failed to arouse the shivering, nerv- 
ous traitor, whose face was indexing each 
separate phase of the mental torture he was 
undergoing. Doubt, fear, hate, love, jealousy 
— all were depicted as they weighed the scales 
against one another. Fletcher, wary old 
scoundrel, let the bait dangle, content to wait. 

Unless I act ! ” Dalton muttered. “ Un- 
less I act ! ” 

He left the window suddenly and crossed to 
a small hanging cupboard and poured out a 
glass of rum. After he had gulped the liquor 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 135 

a light crept into his eyes that tickled his com- 
panion’s ear with the jingle of gold. The bait 
had been swallowed and the hook was biting. 

^'Well?” Fletcher said. The simple word 
was both interrogative and encouraging. 

Well?” 

'' How can I ? ” whispered the gudgeon. 

“ A dozen ways, sir — I don’t suppose you 
want Mr. Borden’s help ? ” 

No, no ! The thing must be quiet and 
quick — the quicker the better.” 

“ That’s all right, then. I have a way to do 
the business. Madam, I understand, used to 
meet her lover ” (Fletcher used the word delib- 
erately and was not disappointed at the result; 
Dalton winced, and his fingers convulsively 
clutched his sword-hilt). '‘Madam used to 
meet her lover at an inn called the ‘ Two Doves.’ 
I’ve seen the place. It’s on the Tappan road, 
half a mile beyond the outposts. And there’s 
plenty of cover and little chance of interrup- 
tion.” 

The calm deliberation of these details sick- 
ened Dalton. But it was his life or Halowell’s, 


136 Clayton Halowell 

Olive’s love to an empty existence, so he steeled 
his heart. 

“ The place being settled,” Fletcher con- 
tinued, coolly, there’s only the problem of 
producing our gentleman at the proper time, 
which is as easy as feathers. Madam’s heart 
is broken because Mr. Halowell’s neglected her 
and has unjust suspicions. She’s — even bet- 
ter than the heart-breaking scheme — going 
away and would like to see Mr. Halowell once 
more for old-times’ sake ; and won’t Mr. Halo- 
well grant her half an hour at the old meeting- 
place. Nothing’s easier, you see.” 

Now that the way was cleared Dalton’s lack 
of mental stability served to make him shrink 
from the execution of the plot. 

That’s all very nice in words,” he said, 
querulously, moistening his lips with his 
tongue, ‘‘ but the man must know Madam de 
Laurent’s writing — curse him ! ” he added, 
with a fury that warmed his companion’s heart. 

Madam has a maid,” he said. 

‘‘ The woman can’t write.” 

“ So much the better, so much the better. 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 137 

my dear sir. The writing of a person who 
can’t write isn’t hard to imitate.” 

His wit so pleased himself that Fletcher 
burst into a cackle, which again nearly brought 
his career to an untimely close. Dalton leaped 
to his feet, eyes ablaze, pistol leveled. 

“ By God ! I’ll shoot you if you laugh ! ” 

Fletcher cowered against his chair, and re- 
mained there until his companion had resumed 
his seat and the fire had died from his eyes. 
Then he ventured to explain that no offense 
had been intended. 

Will you write the note now,” he contin- 
ued, or—” 

“ Who said I was going to write at all ? ” 
snarled Dalton. '' The plan was yours — at- 
tend to the details yourself. I’ll take care of 
the result.” 

Unfortunately my education, as to writing, 
was neglected, sir. If you won’t write, why, 
the scheme’s off. After all, you can’t blame 
Halowell for loving Madam de Laurent, or 
Madam de Laurent for loving Halowell.” 

This allusion, while its object was trans- 


Clayton Halowell 


138 

parent, brought back to Dalton the whole bit- 
terness of his betrayal. Scruples went by the 
board in a twinkling. To write would be act- 
ing in direct violation to every principle of cau- 
tion, but not to write would be to lose a golden 
opportunity of vengeance; and to have the note 
written by an outsider who might have a 
troublesome memory or an abnormal bump of 
inquisitiveness was out of the question. At 
that instant, as if in answer to an unspoken cry 
for assistance, Joyce called through the door 
to know if she could help George. 

The girl's voice, soft though it was, galvan- 
ized the vacillating energies of the wretched 
cat's-paw. With a quiver of relief and hatred, 
he sprang to his feet. Fletcher, reading the 
intention in the set lips and glowering brow, 
laughed. 

Hide me first," he whispered. 

Dalton pointed to a press which occupied one 
corner of the room, and, as the old man slipped 
noiselessly within its capacious door, hastily 
wound a handkerchief around his right hand 
and admitted his sister. 


Fletcher Earns Fifty Guineas 139 

I was about to send for you/' he said, 
steadying himself by a tremendous effort. “ I 
want you to write a few notes for me. I've 
hurt my hand." 

'' Not snapped another trigger on it, have 
you, dear?" asked Joyce, solicitously. ‘'Let 
me see it. I'll make a dandelion salve and 
bandage it — " 

“No, no! You won't do anything; it's a 
trifle, I tell you ! Here, sit down and write." 

Several times before this Joyce had played 
amanuensis for her brother; and the memory 
of his commendation always lasted through 
subsequent days of neglect. So now she needed 
no second command to seat herself before the 
inkpot and quills. 

Dalton dictated two letters, in order to gain 
time for the final one. At length his thoughts 
grew nimble ; and in a perfectly impassive 
voice he began a curt three lines, without date 
or address, so worded that the acting secretary 
thought them an unofficial request to a con- 
tractor for a “ private interview " at “ the 
usual place " the following afternoon. 


140 Clayton Halowell 

Thank you ; that's all for the present. I'll 
make shift to sign the things myself." 

'' How odd your voice is, George," ex- 
claimed Joyce. You've taken cold, and you're 
as white as a sheet ! You'll have small-pox or 
typhoid, I know, unless you let me send for 
Mr. McKnight." 

I'm only tired, Joyce," Dalton replied, and 
almost pushed the girl into the hall. 

Fletcher, watching through a chink in the 
door of his hiding place, nodded contentedly 
two or three times. He had earned his fifty 
guineas very handily, he flattered himself. 


CHAPTER X 


WHEREIN IS A DEMONSTRATION OF THAT 
WHICH FOOLS CALL CHANCE 

The afternoon following Mr. Fletcher's in- 
terview with Major Dalton, young Winslow 
brought a disconsolate face to the cottage win- 
dow by riding into the yard and indulging in a 
series of antics evidently indicative of a desire 
to break bones. 

It's pure joy," he panted, pausing at length 
and bowing up at the face with a flourish of his 
hat. ‘‘My stars! What's wrong, Joyce? 
You're as blue as a Presbyterian preacher." 

“ You'd be blue, too, if you had expected 
someone who had not appeared." 

“ Making statements concerning the proba- 
ble thoughts of other persons is conducive to 
trouble," averred Winslow, and declined to ob- 
serve Joyce's rebuke when, without noticing 
the irrelevant interruption, she continued: 


142 


Clayton Halowell 

And Fve cooked a chicken pie for George, 
because he dotes on them, and he's gone to the 
Short Hills and won't be home until mid- 
night.” 

“ Then, come for a ride with me and forget 
your woes.” 

‘‘Conceit!” 

Winslow made a grimace. “ Honi soit! But 
you'd better come, my girl. The roads aren't 
worse than usual and I’ve wheedled old Fenton 
out of the afternoon and begged this nag from 
Captain Manderson on purpose to give you an 
airing. Drilling’s beastly work : you’ve no idea 
how long it takes a clod-hopper to learn his left 
foot from his right. A fellow must have 
diversion occasionally.” 

Joyce reflected. It was not yet too late for 
him to come — 

“ I’ll have to dress.” 

“ I'll wait.” 

“ It will take—” 

“ An hour,” said Winslow promptly. “ I'll 
wait two; that doesn’t scare me off. I've 
brought you these, too,” holding up a bunch of 


That Which Fools Call Chance 143 


carnations, “ to put in your bonnie brown hair. 
Refuse now, if you dare.” 

Joyce was not proof against this blandish- 
ment. “ Well, if you insist.” 

“I do, sweet maid — decidedly I do insist ! 
You're wasting time talking; and as my time is 
paid for by the government, ergo — ^you’re wast- 
ing the government’s time, which is the gov- 
ernment’s money. And wasting the govern- 
ment’s money being treason punishable with 
death, you must certainly see that to detain me 
longer with inane excuses is — ” 

“ Enough ! ” laughed Joyce. I fly.” 

It was one of those perfect April afternoons 
when the winds are resting and the ground ex- 
hales all the fragrance of June. The river, 
dimpling in the delight of freedom from win- 
ter’s icy grip, purred between green banks and 
ripening fields ; the buds on the chestnuts thrust 
up their tender feathery heads to drink the 
balmy air; the bushes, heavy with the first 
lading of spring finery, nodded to one another 
in the glee of their existence; birds, flowers, 
plants, every living thing, was joyful and 


144 Clayton Halowell 

abundantly, beautifully, healthfully endowed 
with life. The magic of the day seized upon 
Joyce. When she was mounted, with Winslow 
a willing contestant, she raced up the lane and 
forgot vexation as only youth can forget. 

In the highway the usual concourse, civic 
and military, compelled sobriety and was solely 
responsible for the dignity with which Major 
Dalton's name was upheld to a knot of officers 
who were in the parade-ground beside Head- 
quarters watching cavalry recruits at drill. 

“ There’s Mr. Hamilton ! ” exclaimed Joyce, 
as one of the group trotted across the field to- 
ward her. Good-afternoon, Mr. Hamilton. 
Your occupation is changed, I see, since the 
Assembly. Sitting out dances with a girl must 
be tame indeed compared with this.” 

“ If it is tame I am but just learning the 
fact,” answered the future Secretary. ‘‘ Per- 
haps I talk too continuously on the wxather 
and the ladies’ gowns at assemblies. If that is 
so you certainly owe me an opinion on the rela- 
tive merits of yonder would-be centaurs.” 

‘‘A woman’s opinion on the military! It 


That Which Fools Call Chance 145^ 


would be monotonous flattery, I fear. Good- 
day, Mr. Stirling. I was telling Mr. Hamilton 
that I scarcely knew him as Mars.” 

‘‘ Why, pray ? Is his usual role that of idle 
Apollo?” 

Winslow felt decidedly de trop as this badi- 
nage flew over his head; when, however, the re- 
mainder of the group abandoned their inspec- 
tion to cluster around his old play-fellow he was 
obliged to extract what comfort he could from 
the sound of her merry laugh and the sight 
of grave eyes lightening amusedly at her sal- 
lies. Stirling was ponderously complimentary, 
Baron Steuben cheerfully critical, Hamilton 
gaily superficial, and General Kosciusko, the 
fourth of the group, combatively egotistical. 

Your American cavalry is good, oh ! very 
good for the fight,” the Pole was asserting to 
the group in general when Winslow overcame 
his sullenness sufficiently to interest himself in 
the conversation. ‘‘ But they are not — not 
clevair on the horse. Look at those fellow — 
they sit like wooden men — like this,” and he set 
his horse curveting while he sat rigid. That 


146 Clayton Halo well 

is not right. Though I try and try, I cannot 
change the men. They are inflexible.” 

“ But they can ride ; you must admit that,” 
Joyce interloped rebelliously. “ Can they not 
ride, Mr. Stirling? ” 

“ I would not rashly pit my knowledge 
against that of General Kosciusko,” replied 
Stirling, smiling at the girl’s readiness to de- 
fend the fame of her countrymen. “ Yet at 
times, I must confess, we have caused our 
friends the enemy some small trouble with his 
baggage and forage.” 

‘‘ Ah yes ! I say you can ride” retorted the 
Pole. “ How many^ however, can do this? ” 
He was off like a flash, guiding his nervous 
little mare by the motion of his body. A 
dozen leaps brought him to the center of 
the field where the practising troop was 
drawn up in double platoon. He gave a 
short command — and away whirled the hun- 
dred men, a wavering line of straining 
horses, sparkling steel and tossing manes and 
plumes. At the far end of the ground they 
turned and charged back toward the watching 


That Which Fools Call Chance 147 

group. A length in advance rode the foreigner, 
pistol in hand. When half the return distance 
had been covered the man gave a quick flip and 
sent his weapon high in the air, caught it again 
by the butt as it descended, whirled it once more 
on high, regained it by the muzzle, and, rising 
in his stirrups, hurled it at an imaginary foe 
with a yell that startled even his well-trained 
mount. Then, with the troop thundering past, 
he wheeled out, a little dishevelled and flushed, 
but triumphant. 

“ So ! Can your heavy American do that ? 
Fight I grant you, but ride — ah, no.'' 

The awkward silence that followed the for- 
eigner's ill-chosen exhibition and words was 
such that even the ready Hamilton could not 
gracefully break. When, therefore, a lazy voice 
from the rear of the group said, “ Your par- 
don, General, but they can ride like that, I feel 
assured," every head turned and every heart 
welcomed the interruption. Joyce cried, “ Good, 
good, Mr. Halowell ! " and Lord Stirling said. 
You should know if anyone. Major," and 
Winslow, being too young to mix in the talk 


148 Clayton Halowell 

of his elders and superiors, breathed a sigh of 
thankfulness that the honor of the army rested 
on so goodly a specimen of its composition. 

‘‘ You will not deny that Mr. Revere rode 
well,” continued Halowell, “ or that General 
Putnam was not a master of equestrian art. 
Even I, poor I, have several rides to my credit.*^ 

“Yes, yes, that I have admitted,” Kosciusko 
cried. “ But it is not the kind of riding we do 
in Poland.” 

Though a thorough gentleman and a soldier, 
the Pole was apt to be intolerant; and Halowell, 
possessed of the Republican spirit that refuses 
to be awed, and feeling that he had with him 
the good-will of the little assemblage, replied : 

“ And yet I think we could do the kind of 
riding you speak of.” 

“ A wager ! A wager ! ” cried Hamilton. 

“ A wager then,” retorted Kosciusko. “ Mr. 
Plalowell shall ride my mare — or at least, he 
shall ride her or lose the wager.” 

“ It’s a fair proposition,” said Halowell, 
“ only Pve an appointment this evening which 
I do not wish to imperil.” 


That Which Fools Call Chance 149 


“ Tut, tut; you are — what you call it — crawl- 
ing,” Kosciusko laughed. “ I am desirous of 
winning this wager and the stakes — whatever 
the latter is to be — so I shall not let you off.” 

But,” demurred Halowell, to whom the 
idea of soiling his best uniform in child’s-play 
was not alluring. 

You must not ' but,' Mr. Halowell,” Joyce 
interrupted, imperiously. “ This is for the 
service : you are to refute a most horrible impu- 
tation or I shall report the treason to the 
Provost.” 

Yes, yes,” Stirling cried, entering into the 
spirit of the occasion with a zest begotten of 
the dullness of a long winter of idleness. Buts 
are quite out of order. Major. Mistress Dalton 
shall reward the victor. Shall it be a kerchief 
or a feather. Mistress Dalton ? ” 

‘‘ Indeed, neither. I need the one because 
they are scarce, and the other because the loss 
of it would cause ruin to my hat and conse- 
quent desolation to my soul.” 

'' Far be it from me to cause woe. A flower, 
then?” 


150 Clayton Halowell 

“ Very well, a flower — and a smile to boot. 
My sweetest.” 

“ Now I warn you I shall win! ” cried Halo- 
well. The smile makes me invincible, Gen- 
eral. What are the conditions of this soul- 
stirring and important struggle ? ” 

“ Sit my mare for five minutes,” replied 
Kosciusko, “ and amuse us with a trick or two. 
That is all I require. They tell me. Major,” he 
continued, airily, “ that the division hospital is 
short of cots. You are willing to take the risk, 
I suppose ? ” 

For a flower and a smile? Fie, sir, for the 
question.” 

The exchange of mounts was quickly ef- 
fected. As Halowell settled himself and gath- 
ered up the bridle of his new mount he called. 
The Guards have an excellent veterinary, sir. 
You are willing to take the risk, I suppose? ” 

But the reply was lost in a vicious equine 
squeal. The mare’s silky ears had flattened and 
her back had arched like that of an angry cat. 
Rearing, she executed a sort of equine break- 
down, her rider clinging to the saddle in utter 


That Which Fools Call Chance 151 

defiance to the law of gravitation. Then, with- 
out allowing Halowell time to even swear, the 
angry brute sent her heels skyward and sprang 
back and forth, sideways, to and fro, in frantic 
efforts to unseat him. The dust rose in a long, 
eddying spiral which enveloped man and beast 
and stung HalowelFs nostrils. As the struggle 
grew more severe his clear-cut lips hardened 
into a cruel, determined line, and his strong 
teeth clenched, and his whole body, tense with 
rigid muscles, became the personification of de- 
termination. The harder the struggle, the 
fiercer his resolution. Death perhaps: defeat 
never. 

There is something inspiriting in horse- 
breaking (as a spectacle, not as a pastime). To 
see the iron muscles of man and brute strain in 
the tussle for mastery, to watch the quick play 
of limb and body, suggests a duel, or a bout at 
wrestling. Slowly, very slowly, the dust grew 
less dense, allowing the forms of man and beast 
to become visible. The mare, though trembling 
and dirt-streaked, was still squealing, kicking, 
and balking with all the desperate perseverance 


1^2 Clayton Halowell 

of her sex. But the rider had not even lost his 
stirrups, and the sight sent a glow to Joyce’s 
heart. Winslow was wildly desirous of cheer- 
ing, a desire only suppressed out of deference 
to the international character of the struggle. 
One excitable recruit, however, in the motion- 
less troop at the far end of the field, forgetful 
of discipline, cried, Give her the curb. Major; 
give her the curb ! ” until his companions were 
obliged forcibly to suppress him. 

Halowell had won his wager, and won it 
neatly. But the impulse to do more than merely 
win was too strong for his vanity to resist. 
Allowance must be made, also, for the fact that 
his blood was up. He wheeled the now docile 
creature and proceeded to give an exhibition of 
rough-riding such as effectually stilled Kosci- 
usko’s comments on the lack of that art in the 
American army. Now he was squarely erect in 
the saddle; the next moment he was bounding 
alongside his galloping mount. Then, swiftly 
mounting, he was tearing around the drill- 
ground with only a leg or an arm visible above 
the saddle. Finally, and without a break in his 


That Which Fools Call Chance 153 

pace, he regained his seat, drew his sword, and 
sent the heavy blade glittering in intermittent 
flashes of white radiance twenty feet above the 
plume of his chapeau. A mis-catch meant, at 
the very least, a severe wound. A dozen times 
Joyce’s secret was plain in her dilated eyes and 
white lips. Hamilton read it and shrugged 
his shoulders ; Lord Stirling read it and 
frowned. He, in common with all who had met 
the girl, admired her fresh, sweet purity. If 
Halowell had set out deliberately — But pshaw ! 
Halowell was hard and reckless, but he was 
not bad : and while his conduct was far 
from irreproachable in many things, it was all 
that could be desired in society. Stirling also 
had faith in the man’s cleverness to keep him 
from jeopardizing the favor he enjoyed at 
Headquarters — which reflection betrayed a 
keen insight into human character. 

The ‘‘ Bravos ” and “ Well done ” which 
greeted Halowell as he pulled up and dis- 
mounted, recompensed, in a measure, a lost 
queue-ribbon, a torn waistcoat, and a general 
dirtiness at which his soul rebelled. And what 


154 


Clayton Halowell 


the plaudits did not accomplish, a scarlet car- 
nation and an accompanying smile, did. Kosci- 
usko was the first to offer congratulations and 
beg to be taught a few of the tricks : and Stir- 
ling said that Mr. Lee would have to watch his 
laurels. And then Baron Steuben invited the 
party to his quarters to partake of some old 
Marsala; and in the quaffing of the wine any 
lingering sting evaporated. 

* ^ * Hi He * 

The patrol at the edge of the Black Swamp 
touched his rusty helmet and smiled indulgently 
as two eager, flushed faces and a pair of strain- 
ing horses tore past him and pulled up a hun- 
dred feet beyond. 

Beat ! ” cried Joyce. 

Oh ! no such thing ! ” denied Winslow, 
more truthful than gallant. 

The girl dragged her hat from her neck to its 
proper position on her curls. Who couldn't 
beat a girl?" she asked with scorn. “You 
crow as if you had performed a feat. Bm sure 
Mr. Halowell would have — " 


That Which Fools Call Chance 155 

** Oh, hang Mr. Halowell ! If you are going 
to return to that subject I shall go back to 
camp.’’ 

“ Very well then, go back.” There was a 
suspicion of battle in Mistress Dalton’s voice. 
“ But I shall certainly talk of whom I choose.” 

Have you a claim on Mr. Halowell ? ” de- 
manded Winslow, sternly. 

'‘You are very rude. How can I go straight 
home?” 

“ You can’t.” 

“ Then what is the nearest way? ” 

“ Down the road until you reach the red barn. 
Then turn to the right and cross the bridge: 
climb the four-step stile on the left of the apple- 
orchard you’ll come to; scale a six-foot picket 
fence—” 

“ Richard! ” said Joyce impressively. “ Rich- 
ard, I think I shall not speak to you for a year.” 
And for ten minutes the threat held good, at the 
end of which time Peace, in the form of a rag- 
ged courier, came. The courier, being young 
and talkative, and the companions weary of 
the silence their estrangement entailed, the im- 


156 


Clayton Halowell 


pulse to chat was mutual. After preliminary 
remarks concerning the state of the roads and 
weather, the courier informed the twain that he 
was on his way to Elizabeth Town; also, that 
he was glad of the chance to skip one day’s drill 
and stable-duty. Joyce replied politely that she 
was sure he must be glad; and Winslow re- 
marked moodily that he had better take exercise 
while he could, as there seemed no prospect of 
chasing red-coats until June. This remark 
naturally brought forth an earnest dissertation 
by the trooper on the folly of inactivity, and an 
agreement of the doctrine (and a few observa- 
tions relative to Congress’ squabbling and the 
tardiness of the French fleet in beginning their 
campaign) by Winslow. As, however, the 
combined age of both critics barely reached 
forty, and they both displayed a truly beautiful 
disregard for facts and conditions, their con- 
versation is scarcely worth recording. It is suf- 
ficient to say in connection therewith that it 
gave Joyce a peep into the deep well of her com- 
panion’s wisdom and made her properly 
ashamed of having allowed him to see her child- 


That Which Fools Call Chance 157 

ishly angry. When the two left the orderly and 
turned homeward, the cloud which had marred 
their sun had vanished. 

Now, though resolutions are commendable, 
conditions are often perverse — an aphorism the 
truth of which Joyce and Winslow discovered 
before they were fairly started on the return 
trot. Woodland paths, carpeted with brown 
pine-needles and soft shadows, and fringed with 
shimmering green laurel, while picturesque, are 
not conducive to the choosing of the shortest 
routes and the speediest gaits. Then there was 
a flower to be plucked here, and a spray of 
blossoms to be broken there, until by the time 
the last unexpected twist had been turned and 
the last senseless hill struggled up and the river 
reached, the land was dark with the shadow 
of dusk. 

Their road had brought them to the slope of 
a steep hill, below which stretched the whole 
valley, scattered through with farms and resi- 
dences, flaming west windows and long straight 
pencils of purple smoke. Far away, girt by 
slopes of gilded foliage, were the cantonments. 


158 


Clayton Halowell 


Further south, perched upon Mount Kemble's 
long crest, glistened the village. Beyond, 
frowning down upon town and camp, were the 
unfinished ramparts of the fort which Washing- 
ton had ordered his idle army to build, and 
which the men had named (aptly as regards its 
military usefulness) Fort Nonsense. The scene 
was like the painting of some cunning artist, 
only a thousand times warmer and more beauti- 
fully-tinted than art could have reproduced it. 

Isn’t it beautiful ! ” exclaimed Joyce, softly. 

Very,” replied Winslow. “ Very beautiful. 
Only I’m thinking more of supper and a stable 
than Nature and Beauty.” 

“ Have you no soul, Dick ! I suppose, 
though,” with a wry face, “ we really should be 
home.” 

Not necessarily,” Winslow replied, cheer- 
fully. Indeed, he did not seem cast down at 
the prospect of an enforced halt and, perhaps, 
a tete-a-tete supper with Joyce. 

I think you care nothing of what people 
will say. To think of a girl gallivanting 
through the country at this hour ! And with a 


That Which Fools Call Chance 159 

man! And Madam Knox the gossip she is. 
What will we do, Dick ? ’’ 

“ Sup,’' said Dick. And, in reply to Joyce’s 
horror, “ Why not, please ? It’s dark now and 
we are alone. So as well be killed for the sheep, 
I say. There’s a fine place up the hill further, 
where the sups are worth supping and the view 
worth viewing. Think of the brutes, too. If 
you are inhuman enough to ride them six miles 
in their present condition I, for one, shall con- 
fess to sad disappointment. A girl who will 
pretend heartbroken grief over every hurt bee 
she finds — ” 

‘‘You’re a fraud!” declared Joyce. “You 
led me into this trap purposely ! ” 

“ Slander — evil slander, mistress. The ac- 
cusation makes me shudder — the crime is too 
heinous for my young brain to have hatched. 
But you’ll allow we must eat and bait the nags ; 
and the place whereof I was speaking (it is 
known by the euphonious appellation of ‘Two 
Doves ’) is as good as any place where one pays 
gold to ruin one’s digestion and glander one’s 
horse.” 


i6o Clayton Halowell 

“ George may return and need me/’ de- 
murred Joyce. Her firmness, however, was 
plainly tottering. 

“ The excuse is too trivial. Enough. You 
need make no objection to my ruling. Joyce, 
we sup at the ‘ Two Doves.’ ” 

The hostelry was a rambling, shambling, 
brick-and-stone affair, boasting an out-of-the- 
world air and an approach through half a mile 
of quiet woodland. The door was perpetually 
open and blocked by the huge bulk of Mine 
Host Peters. To the right of the hall (which 
was broad, with the stairs making a double turn 
from a landing half way up) was the long, 
sanded tap-room, bright with polished crocks 
and white tables. To the left were numerous 
doors, each numbered in black paint and open- 
ing into rooms large enough to serve dinner 
tete-a-tete. A narrow passage led to the 
kitchen and, beyond, the yard and stables. 

Above stairs the arrangements were practi- 
cally the same, with a long room for banquets 
and the small ones as below. It was into one 
of the latter that Winslow led his companion. 


That Which Fools Call Chance i6i 

Sambo, my man,’’ he said to the black at- 
tendant, — “ Sambo, dinner. And if King 
George comes to beg my attendance at court, 
tell him I’ll not stir until after coffee.” 


CHAPTER XI 


WHEREIN HALOWELL MEETS A MASKED MAN 

Clayton watched Joyce and Winslow race 
away from Baron Steuben’s quarters with a 
queer mixture of content and jealousy tugging 
at his heart — the former because of the several 
pretty speeches of which he had been the recipi- 
ent, and the latter because of the gay camarad- 
erie between the girl and her companion. Even 
a certain piece of paper in his pocket, while it 
was gratifying to his vanity, was not recom- 
pense for the loss of an afternoon ride in the 
hills with Joyce, nor the torture of being obliged 
to stand aside like a bumpkin while a slip of an 
ensign mounted her by right of escort. He 
cursed the importunity of the note, the “ Two 
Doves,” Olive, himself, Winslow, and every-? 
thing that had a bearing, fancied or otherwise, 
upon his unhappiness, and rode gloomily away. 

There was only a glimmer of light in the west 
162 


Halowell Meets a Masked Man 163 

when, after evening parade, he left his hut and 
rode into the Tappan road. A keen wind had 
sprung from the north and was rustling the last- 
year’s leaves and whispering, through the forest- 
burdened slopes which slid down upon either 
side of the highway. He muffled his cloak 
closer and fell to pondering Olive’s request. Had 
she decided to spare him the unpleasantness of 
his self-imposed task, or had she been frightened 
by his discovery of the man in the swamp? 
Neither solution seemed probable so he settled 
his cravat with a conceit as unconscious as it was 
ingenuous. Man’s love is often close akin to 
gratified vanity: and though Major Halowell 
was ready to swear that his motives in granting 
the desired interview were purely disinterested 
and patriotic, he could not prevent a pleased 
smile from pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

Long before his reflections on the subjects 
of Conquest and Self had lost their pristine 
sweetness he had passed the limits of camp and 
was trotting in the dark loneliness of the coun- 
try road. Except for an occasional patrol or be- 
lated pedestrian the highway was deserted. Soon 


164 Clayton Halowell 

even these reminders of civilization ceased ; and 
by the time the lights of the “ Two Doves ’’ be- 
came visible, blinking high up amid a back- 
ground of clouds and foliage, the road, as well 
as the country-side, was as solitary as the Neu- 
tral Ground or a county 'after a visitation by 
Colonel Tarleton. 

The approach to the inn lay, as before men- 
tioned, through a stretch of almost primeval for- 
est — the Lovers’ Lane of Youth, the Bugaboo 
of Too-Well-Dined. With the first line of 
shrubbery Halowell, in habitual and totally un- 
conscious caution, cast aside theorization and 
became a practical soldier, to whom a country 
not open to the most superficial glance is a 
country unsafe for the body. 

He was half through the maze of vegetation, 
and a spot of light painted upon the further 
darkness was heralding the approach of the 
open when (though without a break in his 
pace) he cocked his ear forward. Nothing 
in the rustle and sough of leaf and limb was 
suspicious — 

Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! 


Halowell Meets a Masked Man 165 

A family of owls was disagreeing — and caus- 
ing Mr. Halowell to softly draw his pistols from 
the holsters and slip them into his belt. The 
exchange had no more than been effected when 
the underbrush waved and a single horseman 
detached himself from a clump of alders and 
moved across the road. 

There could be no mistaking the man’s mis- 
sion : the time, the place, the manner of his ap- 
pearance were all eloquent of sinister motives. 
Halowell drew up sharply, calculated the 
chances of a rush, decided they were poor at 
present, and inquired the meaning of the ob- 
struction of the Republic’s highway. 

The right of might,” was the gruff reply. 

Hm ! May I inquire also, sir, why you dis- 
guise your voice ? ” 

The horseman ignored the irrelevant inquiry. 

We want you to come with us,” said he — by 
which command it may be seen that the bur- 
den of the ambush as originally planned had 
proven too great for its originator’s weak 
shoulders. Though all his plans had been laid 
for quick work, his lack of mental stability (a 


i66 


Clayton Halowell 


serious defect in one who contemplates a crime) 
was preventing him from risking his name, his 
hopes of Olive’s hand, his very life, on the one 
throw. He had argued to himself over and 
again during the long hour preceding the pros- 
pective victim’s appearance that Borden would 
know better than he how to deal with the 
situation. Once captured, the prisoner could be 
either used or put away without the witness of 
a dozen pairs of eyes and the irremediable in- 
crimination of George Dalton, Esquire. He 
said again, “We want you to come with us,” 
and hoped Borden would approve his plan when 
he brought the prisoner to him. 

“ Want me to go with you? ” said Halowell. 
“ Who the devil do you think I am — the pay- 
master ? ” 

“ I know who you are, damn you ! Will you 
come quietly, or must we — ” 

Something in the man’s voice prompted 
Halowell to glance over his shoulder. He 
caught the glint of a couple of carbines pointed 
at his back, heard the bushes on either side of 
the narrow road swaying in a most suspicious 


Halowell Meets a Masked Man 167 

manner, and decided it was time to act. In a 
flash he had raised his pistol and fired at the 
figure in the road. Then, with the man’s angry 
curse ringing in his ears, and the hmig, bang, 
bang of a pursuing volley ripping through the 
evening silence, he spurred for dear life, crouch- 
ing over his pommel to escape the bullets, and 
praying fervently that Bucephalus stand the 
pace. Of course this was Olive’s war: and he 
had walked into the trap with the rawness of a 
school-boy! The worst these fellows could do 
would be too small a punishment for his 
simplicity. 

He was out of the road by now and charging 
up a stretch of open road. It was heavy going ; 
and when Bucephalus stumbled he attributed 
the thing to the mud and grade. When, how- 
ever, the horse began to groan and miss his 
footing, the master loosened his sword and, in 
view of the gravity of the situation, let the 
foundering nag guide himself and looked back. 

The nearest pursuer was the man of the 
alders, and was not half a rod distant. Halowell 
raised his second pistol— and lowered it again, 


i68 


Clayton Halowell 

To be able to fire last was an advantage too 
enormous to throw away, even though the 
chances were overwhelmingly great that this 
unpleasant neighbor would send a bullet into 
his back the moment he turned. 

And presently the moment and the bullet 
came and flipped HalowelFs hat into the road 
and decided him, incontinently, upon bringing 
his own weapon into play. 

But a foundering horse, galloping, makes a 
miserable gun platform,. Though the fugitive 
turned squarely in his saddle (taking huge risks 
of a broken neck thereby), his bullet not only 
failed to slacken his pursuer's career, but caused 
the man to deliberately raise his second pistol. 

This was more than Halowell could endure. 
To be shot at as dispassionately as if he were 
a practice-dummy or a target roused every com- 
bative instinct within him. With a savage 
determination to end the matter then and there 
he pulled up. The move was so unexpected 
that it ruined his pursuer's aim. And before 
the man could check his horse he was abreast 
his infuriated quarry and being gripped by two 



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Halowell Meets a Masked Man 169 

particularly muscular hands. Halowell could 
not spare the time nor the energy to tear away 
the oval of silk which masked the man’s eyes 
and forehead. But he did the next best thing 
— plucked the fellow from his saddle and flung 
him bodily, mask and all, over the stone wall 
that bordered the road. And if the splash that 
followed the action were evidence, the invol- 
untary flight ended in that which must have 
cooled the highwayman’s ardor. The whole 
affair — ^parley, flight, pursuit, and struggle — 
had been the work of less time than is required 
in the telling. 

And now for the other gentlemen,” Halo- 
well muttered grimly, unsheathing his sword 
and wrapping the leather thong around his 
wrist. They’ll have a mark or two to remem- 
ber the departed — Oh ho ! So it has come ! ” 
Bucephalus stumbled and recovered; stum- 
bled again ; and crashed forward on his muzzle. 
Several of the men behind raised a shout, and 
Halowell felt that they could well afford to 
exult. 


CHAPTER XII 


WHEREIN WINSLOW PROVES HIS METTLE AND 
HALOWELL HAS AN UNPLEASANT EXPERI- 
ENCE. 

''What is that, Dick? There, there’s 
another ! ” 

Joyce laid down her fork and listened to a 
flurry of carbine reports crashing out in the val- 
ley below, and a score of answering shots rat- 
tling back in the direction of the camp. The 
cause of the former is known: the latter were 
the picket signals. And so rapidly did they 
leap from post to post that, several minutes be- 
fore Dalton was floundering in the ditch and his 
adversary preparing to show his teeth, regi- 
ments were stumbling sleepily into rank, and 
the guards at the Ford House were crouching 
behind windows and barricades, carbines 
loaded, eyes alert, prepared to resist the threat- 
ened attack, It was the knowledg^e of this sys- 
170 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 171 

tern, and the certainty of the prompt appear- 
ance of a scouting-party, that made the as- 
sassins press their quarry so boldly. 

The prolonged firing caused Winslow to 
pause with a spoonful of dessert midway to his 
mouth. Then, with a degree of coolness quite 
in accord with one of his veteran experience, 
he remarked that it could be nothing worth 
leaving this pudding for; probably some fel- 
lows running the sentinels, as we’ll have to do 
to get back,” and dismissed the incident. 

Not so his companion. ‘‘ Do you mean to 
say,” she began, in wrathful trepidation, “ that 
I’ll have to be shot at when I start home ? Rich- 
ard Winslow ! How could you ! ” 

Richard, however, was not listening to 
Joyce, but rather to the rapid clatter of hoofs 
that had followed the dying away of the uproar 
in the valley. 

“ By George ! Something is going on down 
there ! ” exclaimed the boy, and was out on the 
balcony peering into the darkness before his 
companion could object to his reckless ex- 
posure. The whole household, from Peters to 


1J2 


Clayton Halowell 


the scullery maids and the pot-boy, were con- 
gregated in the hall door. “ Stay where you 
are, Joyce; Til be back directly,” he called as he 
reentered, and dashed from the room. 

He had barely reached the head -of the stairs 
when the rapid stamp of boots sounded in the 
flagged yard, and the group at the door scat- 
tered right and left. A man, bleeding, panting 
and sweaty, stumbled into the hall, trailing a 
bloody sabre in his right hand. He slammed 
the door (throwing his weight against it as if 
expecting an immediate attack) and felt for the 
bolt with his free hand. Some of the maids 
screamed that the Hessians were coming and 
the rest hid their heads in their aprons and 
howled lustily. 

For the Lord’s sake ! What to do, Mr. 
Halowell ? ” Peters cried, despairingly. 

“ There’ll be hell to pay in a few minutes, 
Peters, you fat rascal. Hello, Winslow ! ” as 
the youth descended the stairs three at a time, 
so startling the pot-boy that he added his voice 
to the chorus of invocations for safety. “ Don’t 
ask the trouble, there’s a good fellow, but see 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 173 

if the back door is locked — it’s at the end of 
that hall to the right. Peters, keep those fools 
of yours quiet!” he commanded. “Well?” 
as Winslow reappeared. “ Everything right? ” 

The cornet saluted unconsciously and re- 
ported all closed in the rear. 

“ They’ll be in at the windows, of course,” 
Halo well said, reflectively. “We can’t help 
that, but — ” 

“ In through the windows ! ” screamed 
Peters. “ In through the windows, forsooth I 
I’m a ruined man I ” 

Halowell tossed a coin to the frightened 
Boniface. “ That’s for my share of the ball. I 
pay in advance, you see, even though I didn’t 
seek the fun. And here come our gentlemen,” 
as the tramp of horses sounded above the wail- 
ing of the women. “ I’m going into the tap- 
room, Peters. Mind this door doesn’t open : if 
it does you’ll be wearing a halo before you’ve 
had time to ponder your manifold sins and 
wickednesses,” with which cheerfully-delivered 
observation the Major stalked into the public, 
knocked out the lights with his sword, and 


174 


Clayton Halo well 


stretched himself full length before the window 
overlooking the yard. A group of men had 
ridden in from the road and dismounted. One 
of the invaders was on the well-combing issuing 
directions and orders. A'lanternj swung to the 
sign board directly above the throng, yellowed 
the mass of ragged hats and unkempt faces, and 
glistened upon the leader’s mask and dripping 
garments. Halowell pensively mopped a 
scratch on his cheek and wondered why the man 
wore a false beard in addition to his mask; 
Winslow, peering over the Major’s shoulder, 
wondered what the trouble was about. 

Who are they?” he whispered presently. 

Halowell laughed, an unpleasant, grating 
laugh which made his companion shiver. “ I 
can’t say, lad,” said he. ‘‘ But I’ll find out 
presently, I can assure you — Hm! They’re 
preparing some deviltry. Have you pistols ? ” 

The weapons were in the hall and Winslow 
ran to fetch them. When he returned it was to 
find the Major swearing over a newly-discov- 
ered spot on his waistcoat, and the men in the 
yard separating into knots of two and three and 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 175 

disappearing around the corners of the house. 
This was the boy's first experience of a night 
attack, an experience, by the way, which is the 
most trying a soldier has to gain. It never 
occurred to him, however, to save his skin by 
refusing to mix in the quarrel — the very cause 
of which he was supremely ignorant : and Halo- 
well, though he knew that men desperate 
enough to assault a house would not stop at one 
throat more or less, never so much as thought 
of suggesting the step. His own code of honor 
so absolutely precluded the abandonment of a 
comrade that he accepted the boy's assistance 
as a matter of course. He gave a last look into 
the yard, picked up his sword, and led the way 
back to the hall (from whence the noisy serv- 
ants had vanished) and up the stairs to the 
broad landing midway in the flight. 

At the rear of this landing was a door com- 
municating with the back stairs. Winslow, 
with a pistol and a short injunction to allow no 
one to pass him and so turn the position, was 
assigned this post. Not without a peculiar dry- 
ness in his throat did the boy pass from the 


176 Clayton Halowell 

companionship of his unconcerned superior to 
the solitude and doubts of his trust. Halowell, 
on the contrary, feeling secure from attack in 
the rear, seated himself on a step of the first 
flight of stairs and became deeply engaged in 
removing Jersey mud from his uniform. 

It was at this stage of the proceedings that 
Joyce, unable to remain confined longer during 
the mysterious preparations she both saw and 
heard, and at a loss to account for the continued 
absence of her escort (who, it must be con- 
fessed, had completely forgotten his charge), 
appeared at the head of the stairs. Halowell 
heard the rustle of a skirt and looking up, be- 
held a flower-like, perplexed little face that, at 
sight of him, broke into a smile of pleased 
surprise. 

“ Mr. Halowell ! and why all these war-like 
preparations ? cried the vision. ‘‘ And what 
have you done with Dick, my recreant 
knight ? ” Then, seeing something in the man’s 
stern eyes, “Is there really trouble?” she 
whispered. 

“ There really is,” replied the Major, and 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 177 

wished heartily he could say otherwise. The 
girl's presence gave an unexpected and un- 
pleasant twist to the situation. If the ruffians 
bested Winslow and himself and, drunk with 
the passion which resistance and the sight of 
blood inflames in their kind, found the girl — 
He did not finish the thought but cursed the 
clear patch behind the stable which had be- 
trayed him to the enemy. Allow me to sug- 
gest," he went on, ascending to her, “ that 
you retire to one of the rooms. I have stirred 
up a hornets' nest and am like to have the 
swarm about my ears soon." 

‘‘You — You are going to fight?" Joyce 
asked, faintly. 

“ Not fight — only brush aside the hornets. 
There's nothing to be alarmed at, I assure you, 
if you will stay in your room and keep very 
quiet." 

The sudden whitening of the girl's lips may 
have been personal fear, or it may have been 
impersonal apprehension. She turned away, 
and her companion, accepting the action as a 
dismissal, abruptly descended the steps he had 


lyS Clayton Halo well 

ascended to be near her. It was quite evident 
his safety was of no moment to the girl. And 
why should he care if it were not! 

Joyce, meanwhile, had turned and was 
watching Halowell. The tallow dip in the hall 
lit his clean-lipped, determined mouth, and 
picked little jewels of brightness in the corners 
of his eyes. He was so strong, so confident, so 
certain of himself, that danger or fear did not 
seem a condition to be thought of in his 
presence. 

“ You will be careful ? the girl said, timidly. 
“ I — Is there nothing I can do — ride for 
help or, — or anything ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing, thank you,” replied Halowell. 
And as his voice was coldly impassive Joyce, 
with a puzzled sigh, reentered the supper room 
and closed the door. 

Scarcely had the girl disappeared when a 
pistol banged and a shred of smoke trailed 
from the door leading to Winslow’s position. 
At the same instant a stream of lowering, in- 
flamed, unshaven faces debouched from the 
kitchen passage and surged toward the front 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 179 

stairs. With no appearance of hurry Halo well 
laid aside his sword, raised his pistol, and snap- 
ped the trigger. A huge, red-haired, red-nosed 
fellow with one foot on the stair clapped both 
hands to his side and pitched forward, his 
scream being a horrible but logical echo to the 
report of the pistol. Disciplined troops or hon- 
est men would never have been stayed by so 
trivial a matter as one death. But jail-birds 
and gutter-pickings are poor stuflp at best, and 
the courage of this particular batch oozed away 
at sight of the twitching body of their comrade 
and the coolly prepared man who had sent him 
to his doom. Halowell took advantage of their 
wavering to rise and lean against the ban- 
nisters; and his careless disdain did as much 
as his shot to further disconcert them. 

“ One moment before we begin,’' he called. 
He noticed that not a man possessed a pistol 
and made a shrewd guess that their employer 
had not dared to arm them with so dangerously 
impersonal a class of weapon. I presume I 
am at liberty to inquire the cause of this en- 
thusiastic desire for closer acquaintance with 


i8o Clayton Halowell 

me ? It’s a natural question, I think, don’t you ? 
— you in the mask — and prompted by pardon- 
able curiosity ? ” 

The man addressed shrank nervously into 
the door of the public. ^The next instant he 
rallied and cried with an oath. Never mind 
his damned airs, men ! There are only two of 
them ! ” which seemed a weighty argument, for 
without much ado the mass of villainy made a 
forward rush and started pell-mell up the 
stairs. 

“ Well, if I must, I must.” Halowell hurled 
his useless pistol at the head of the foremost 
man and stepped briskly to the edge of the 
landing. As he went to guard he heard a clash 
in the back stair and knew that Winslow was 
engaged. He seldom misjudged a man; and 
in spite of the extreme youth of his co-defend- 
ant he felt confident that he need not worry for 
the outcome of that particular fracas. And 
then the nearness of his own stream of jostling, 
yelling, disorderly assailants forced him to for- 
get the young cornet for the time being. 

The first victim of his sword was a lean, tab 


Winslow Proves His Mettle i8i 

low-faced ragamuffin who literally spit himself, 
and rolled backward cursing; the next was an 
equally pleasant-appearing individual who 
sported but one eye and who, after a ridiculous 
attempt at fencing, shrank away, coughing and 
spitting with a hole in his chest. But the men’s 
blood was warmed by now and they came on 
bravely enough, though, hampered by their 
own numbers and the cramped width of the 
stairs, and opposed to a cool head and iron wrist, 
they made small headway. After several min- 
utes of hard fighting this fact became apparent 
to several of the rear-rankers, who decided that 
their cause could be greatly advanced if they 
stood in the hall below, out of the way of their 
comrades. Two men nearer front were pres- 
ently inspired with a similar idea and wriggled 
hurriedly over the bannisters. Then the en- 
lightenment became general; and Clayton was 
presently wiping his sword on a cloak left be- 
hind in an abrupt departure, the acknowledged 
and coolly complacent victor of the scrim- 
mage. 

His period of unmolested triumph was, how- 


i 82 


Clayton Halo well 


ever, short. Scarcely had he made sure of the 
safety of his companion and sheathed his 
weapon (which latter act was a contemptuous 
insult to the ruffians cursing at him from be- 
low), when an ale-mug,* and then another and 
another, whizzed past liis head and smashed 
on the wall behind. To meet this novel method 
of warfare he stretched himself tranquilly on 
the first step of the upper portion of the stairs. 
Occasionally bits of the broken crockery show- 
ered his boots, but beyond scratching the 
leather they were of no avail toward dislodging 
him. 

‘‘Do you need me, Mr. Halowell?” Wins- 
low called, alarmed at the racket of the break- 
ing mugs. 

“ No, thanks. The gentlemen, like a famous 
king, marched up to me, and marched down 
again. Now they are wasting Peters’s mugs 
and their own valuable time in a harmless 
amusement. Did you have much trouble, 
lad?” 

“ Only two came,” was the rueful reply. 
“'Know who the fellows are yet? ” 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 183 

“Not I — (Nay, my good friend in the Jo- 
seph coat, no nearer) — Candidates for Johnny 
Hangman, I expect. Sink me! but I think 
they’re going ! — Surely you cannot stop 
so soon gentlemen. Why, you are four, 
five — seven, and we are two. To confess your- 
self beaten will disgrace American manhood; 
and the girls will never look at you again — 
never.” He laughed and smoothed his frill 
daintily. Then, in wanton recklessness, he 
resumed. 

“ That masked gentleman — you who popped 
at me so systematically out on the road (Yes, 
you I mean!) — suppose we try a go, just to 
keep the company amused. You won’t? Then 
go away please, and call off your friends : I’m 
hungry and you keep me from dining. Chut! 
Don’t scowl at me, you tow-headed, cabbage- 
eater in the corner ! I’ve a mind to come down 
and bundle you into the horse-trough. And 
drop that platter or I’ll do more than duck 
you!” 

So tremendous is the weight of moral cour- 
age that the fellow addressed actually dropped 


184 


Clayton Halowell 


the missile he was in the act of throwing. And 
his action was a clear index to his comrades’ 
state of mind. Like curs, they were thoroughly 
cowed by a few kicks — a fact which the masked 
leader discovered when,^ gliding among them, 
he whispered, exhorte'd, and threatened, and, 
beyond a scowl or an uncertain shake of the 
head, received no encouragement to whatever 
proposal he was making. Baffled and raging, 
the man returned to the foot of the stairs. To 
be so near the quarry and be balked of it was 
more than he could swallow. Besides, though 
a moral, Dalton was not a physical coward, 
and he had staked too much on this throw to 
lose. 

‘‘Well?” Clayton said, rising and bowing 
ironically. “Are you considering my invita- 
tion, sir, or admiring the cut of my waistcoat? 
— So ho ! You’re going to try your hand after 
all ! Welcome.” 

Dalton’s eyes were fixed on Halowell’s blade 
with the intensity of a practised fencer, as, step 
by step, he ascended the stairs. He evidently 
e:jepected to be obliged to fight his way to the 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 183' 

landing; but his opponent, carelessly disdain- 
ing to use the advantage of position, waited un- 
til his footing was as secure as his own. 

During the first passes Halowell discovered 
that he was opposed to a skillful fencer. '' I’ll 
have to mind my play, I see,” he remarked, as 
his opponent flashed beneath his guard and 
brought a dribble of blood to his shirt front. 

“ You’ll have to mind more than your 
play ! ” the man muttered, and there was such 
intense hatred in his voice that Halowell was 
startled. Until that instant he had sup- 
posed the men merely Olive’s paid assassins, a 
supposition, however, which the man’s passion 
incontinently shattered. Yet if they were not in 
Olive’s pay, who were they? He ran over his 
list of enemies but could think of no one who 
would risk his neck for the sake of avenging 
an off-hand slight. Duke, of Muhlenberg’s, was 
not above trying a shot from behind a fence; 
but Duke would never go in for an expensive 
attacking force. Coughlin, of the Fifth New 
York, had sworn to get even for an arrest he 
had been pleased to lay to Major Halowell; but 


i86 


Clayton Halowell 


Coughlin could not use his sword as well as a 
cat could use a poker. The fellows might be 
— Halowell smiled at the thought — they might 
be the hirelings of some jealous flame of 
Olive’s. At any rate, 'the last was not an im- 
probable nor an objectionable solution to the 
problem, and he accepted it. 

In pursuance of a determination to neglect 
nothing that could contribute to his advance- 
ment, Halowell had practised untiringly with 
the sword. Many a hard day’s march or 
harder fight had been topped by an hour with 
the foils. Inclement weather, fatigue, even 
sickness, were sunk during these lessons ; noth- 
ing short of the absence of himself or the 
French veteran whom he had impressed as in- 
structor delayed them. Soon there came a 
time when the instructor could teach nothing 
more. Yet Halowell, cunning swordsman 
though he was, found his present adversary 
fully his equal. In technique, in agility, in de- 
fense and offense, the man was his peer. And 
after five minutes of furious fighting he began 
to think less of pretty sword-play than of a 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 187 

whole skin. Some of the boldest of the men, 
too, were creeping up the stairs; and the sud- 
den clashing on the back stairs told of the fight 
renewed there. 

The situation was desperate and required a 
desperate remedy. And a desperate remedy 
was applied. Reckless of consequences, utterly 
disregarding every rule of swordmanship, 
Halowell took the bull by the horns. Flinging 
guard to the winds he put all his strength and 
faith in one lunge in carte. 

Rapid as had been the action, Dalton was 
prepared. Though for only the fraction of a 
second was Halowell uncovered, the fraction 
was sufficient for a strip of steel to dart for- 
ward, flashing like a streak of white fire, and 
bite. A thrill of pain numbed Halowell’s arm. 
Down clattered his sword, a useless weight 
dangling to his wrist. A red mist wavered be- 
fore his eyes and blotted the impassive mask and 
beard from his vision. He tried to raise his 
weapon to guard ; failed absolutely ; and turned 
his chest defiantly to his conqueror, who was 
waving back his valiant following, that the 


1 88 Clayton Halowell 

sweetness of the final thrust might not be 
marred. 

Then, upon the tense silence was flung the 
patter of steps and a woman’s scream. 

'' Murdered ! ” gasped Joyce, her arms flung 
out to intercept the descending sword, her eyes 
fierce as a tigress. Murderer! ” 

If it had been the Fiend himself who had 
thus appeared Dalton could not have shrunk 
further. His sword indeed, remained raised, 
but his shaking hand and chalky lips made the 
pose a mockery. 

Murdered ! ” gasped Joyce again. The 
sound of her voice, muffled yet horribly shrill, 
cleared Halowell’s senses as a pail of water 
steadies a drunken man. Seeing Dalton’s up- 
raised sword and the girl’s attitude (which, to 
his unsteady vision, seemed one of defense), he 
gave a roar and sprang full at the man’s throat. 

Taken by surprise and completely unnerved 
by his sister’s presence, Dalton was helpless to 
this new assault. Halowell had him on the 
floor and was shaking him savagely before one 
of the ruffians on the stairs could move to in- 


1 ^.. 



Murdered ! gasped Joyce.” — Page 188. 






Winslow Proves His Mettle 189 

terfere. And before they could do more than 
move the tramp of a horse changed the tenor 
of their thoughts. With frightened curses, and 
while Halowell was yet beating their prostrate 
employer, they tumbled down the stairs, 
crowded into the kitchen-hall, and vanished 
precipitously. 

“ It’s the watch ! ” cried Joyce hysterically. 

It’s the watch, Mr. Halowell ! ” 

But Clayton paid not the slightest heed to the 
cheering news. He had suddenly ceased his 
irrational method of warfare and was bending 
over his prisoner in such a way as to hide the 
man’s face. 

Mistress Dalton, go up stairs,” he com- 
manded, without looking around. “ Go up 
stairs and shut yourself in your room.” 

“ May I not—” 

“ Please go.” 

There was something in the tone of the re- 
quest that commanded obedience. When, 
however, the girl reached the top of the stairs, 
feminine curiosity prompted her to look back. 
She saw Halowell pull his opponent to his feet, 


190 Clayton Halowell 

fasten the beard which had become unhooked 
from the man’s mask, and half lead, half shove 
the fellow through the door to the back stairs. 
An instant later Winslow appeared, his face 
expressive of the most intense amazement. 

“ Turn to the left at the foot of the stairs 
and run — run/' were the directions Clayton 
hissed into an almost deaf ear, when his sub- 
ordinate had reluctantly obeyed his command 
and left him alone with his captive. For 
God’s sake keep clear of the patrol.” 

‘‘ Here’s his sword,” was Winslow’s greet- 
ing when he returned to the front landing. 
“ It’s regulation size and finish. I wonder — ” 

“ Give it to me,” said Halowell and snatched 
the weapon roughly and flung it behind the 
door just as the lieutenant of the watch 
stamped into the hall. When the officer was 
gone he took the blade from its hiding place 
and slipped it into his boot. 

On the homeward road the little party was 
very quiet. Joyce was still too shaken to be 
loquacious; Winslow was deriving huge de- 
light in re-fighting the brawl; and Halowell 


Winslow Proves His Mettle 191 

was trying (and succeeding ill) to forget the 
picture of a wavering underlip and two hopeless 
eyes. 

The lights of the camp were within sight 
when he broke the silence. “ I shall ask you 
both to regard this affair as secret,” he said, 
gravely. Peters will not speak of it for the 
reputation of his house. For the same reason 
we can keep silent.” 

“ Then it was someone you knew ? ” asked 
Joyce, in an awestruck voice. 

Halowell nodded. 


CHAPTER Xlir 


WHEREIN ARE PROPOUNDED SEVERAL PERTI- 
NENT QUESTIONS 

The embroidery lay idle and Joyce’s face, 
framed by the scarlet and green of the gerani- 
ums, was the picture of contrition and sorrow. 
— George was up waiting for me, so white 
and worried; and this morning he was taken 
with the fever, the result of serious mental 
strain. Dr. Knight says. And now, to cap all. 
His Excellency is bent on disgracing him. I — 
I’m afraid he’ll never get well.” 

Halowell looked up quickly, then returned 
to the scrutiny of his boot-tips. 

There’s no disgrace in being assigned to 
the line,” he said, evenly, “ when there prom- 
ises to be fighting.” 

“ I’m afraid George thinks differently.” 

The visitor made no reply to this statement, 
and Joyce asked, “ Does your shoulder pain?” 
solicitously. 


192 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 193 

No, thank you.” Major Halo well wel- 
comed the change of topic, for he found it dif- 
ficult to sympathize in Mr. Dalton’s troubles. 

The surgeons kept me against all sense. I 
gave them the slip as soon as I could. You 
know we break camp soon.” 

Yes, I know. George is making arrange- 
ments for me to return to Philadelphia with 
Mrs. Arnold.” 

“ Clinton has sworn to end the rebellion be- 
fore fall.” Halowell snarled a skein of silk 
which he picked from the girl’s lap with his 
left hand (his right was in a sling). After 
what had happened at the inn he felt embold- 
ened to ask a question, but was experiencing a 
vast difficulty in selecting words suitable to the 
occasion. He has been heavily reinforced 
too, the scouts report,” he said, aimlessly. 

Which will make his defeat the more glori- 
ous.” 

‘‘ Perhaps.” 

Why such a solemn word ? Is the ‘ scratch ’ 
deep, or are you planning some fearful deed ? ” 

Many of us will have to match these new 


194 Clayton Halowell 

troops and come out the worse for the 
encounter/’ 

Whether it is that a woman possesses a bet- 
ter knowledge of the signs of masculine weak- 
ness than is usually credited to her, or is simply 
loth to lose a slave in the less romantic ap- 
pendage of a fiance, I will not venture to say. 
But certainly the average woman exhausts all 
her arts in an effort to stave off a man’s dec- 
laration of love {stave off, you understand, 
not crush). Perhaps the cause of the thing is 
the innate gambling instinct which is bred in 
us all — though even for that hazard I will not 
stand. Joyce, as her sisters had done before 
her, took instant alarm at something in her vis- 
itor’s manner and began to talk fast and at ran- 
dom; and though Halowell struggled heroi- 
cally to steer the conversation to the port he 
wished it to reach, his efforts were dishearten- 
ingly unsuccessful. Every lead which could 
bring the episode of the “ Two Doves ” upper- 
most was straightway blocked, and for fully 
twenty minutes he was obliged to relate the 
details of a recent trip to West Point, discuss 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 195 

the relative beauties of green and pink silk, 
listen to comments on the effect of the sun upon 
the river, all to the detriment of his heart ac- 
tion. At length, however, Joyce herself gave 
him the opening he sought, and he was not slow 
in availing himself of it. 

“ Have you taken any steps toward discover- 
ing the men who attacked you the other 
night ? ” she asked, when every irrelevant sub- 
ject her mind could fasten upon had been 
threshed and an ominous silence had settled 
upon her companion. 

Halowell gravely completed the skein’s ruin 
before answering. He saw his chance, but re- 
quired time to mass his courage for the as- 
sault. When finally he spoke, it was extempo- 
raneously and not in the language he had re- 
hearsed and pondered upon. 

I have not tried to find them out,” he said 
softly, “ for they did me a service I can never 
repay.” He reached out and laid his brown, 
sinewy hand upon the girl’s slender one. “ Will 
you not make me their eternal debtor, Joyce, 
dearest? ” 


196 Clayton Halowell 

Down went the work, the precious work, an 
unnoticed heap of linen and silks. The girl rose 
and stood facing her visitor, one hand on the 
window-sill, the other on her heaving breast. 

I — I did not mean,” Halowell began hur- 
riedly, and rose also, his cheeks white as paper. 
'' I — I did not mean — I trust you will pardon 
— But I had hoped — ” 

Clayton!” 

A pair of purple eyes, twin stars of tender- 
ness, and a pair of scarlet lips, wreathed half in 
smiles, were glowing up at Halowell. The next 
instant the eyes were hidden and the lips were 
kissing and being kissed. And the world, for 
two individuals, had narrowed to one sunny, 
flower-bright room and became surpassingly 
lovely. 

“ Sweetheart,” Halowell whispered. 

Joyce breathed a little sigh of content and 
nestled closer. Call me sweetheart again ; it 
sounds so beautiful. I can't believe you mean 
it for me.” 

“ It has been your name to me, dearest, since 
the Sunday you received a good-for-nothing 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 197 

Major of Infantry who had only a letter from 
George to recommend him to your grace.” 

Only a letter to recommend him ? Let this 
be the answer to your calumny,” and Joyce 
stood on tiptoe and kissed Halowell, and was 
promptly imprisoned and made to repay the 
kiss at a usurious interest. “ You don’t know 
that I went to sleep that night with the name 
of the good-for-nothing Major of Infantry on 
my lips, and with the image of the good-for- 
nothing Major of Infantry in my heart. The 
image stayed and stayed in my heart, Clayton, 
and grew until, were I to show you the heart, 
you would imagine yourself before a mirror.” 

A pink end of ear was all that was visible at 
the end of the confession. To Halowell the 
morsel of flesh embodied all that was worth 
life. Had ever man been so blessed! Had 
ever sun been brighter, or a river more dimpled, 
or slopes of foliage more sparkling? 

''Had we not better tell George?” said 
Joyce presently. " He’ll be so happy.” 

Halowell would have " told ” the Shah of 
Persia had the starry-eyed maid before him so 


198 


Clayton Halowell 


commanded. Yet, notwithstanding the expan- 
sive geniality with which his happiness had en- 
dowed him, the moment following Joyce's 
opening of the sick-chamber door was one of 
intense awkwardness. Dalton's ghastly face, 
curtained with sullen defiance to hide its real 
fright, was anything but an inviting spec- 
tacle. Viewing it, Halowell could think only 
of an unclaimed sword in a corner of his hut, 
and could express only a limited sympathy for 
the invalid. 

Joyce jumped into the breach, unconsciously 
of course, by running to the bed and burying 
her head in an end of the pillow. 

George dear, Mr. Hal — Clayton has some- 
thing to tell you." An emphasis on the Chris- 
tian name thrilled one of her hearers and 
caused the other to steady his nether lip by a 
perceptible effort. Tell him, Clayton." 

Thus admonished Clayton laconically told 
the brother that he had asked Joyce to be his 
wife. To the news the sick man offered neither 
comment nor congratulation. Instead, he asked 
Joyce to leave him with Mr. Halowell, and 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 199 

watched the girl cross the room and close the 
door with a face motionless as a death-mask. 
But in spite of the apparent placidity, a turbu- 
lent exultation raged in his heart. His wildest 
dreams had not anticipated so complete an im- 
munity from the effects of his deed. Here, in 
one stroke, the obstruction to Olive's love and 
the faintest danger of prosecution for attempted 
murder, were removed. 

Well ? ” said Halowell ; and his voice was 
sufficiently grim to paint Dalton's cheek with 
a fleck of color. “ What have you to say ? " 
The — the engagement has my sanction." 

Halowell shrugged his shoulders. That 
lifts a weight from my mind, of course. But if 
that is all you wanted of me, why could not 
Joyce — See here, Dalton — ," he stepped nearer 
the bed and glowered down at the sick man. 

What the devil does the business mean ? I've 
tried to unravel it and, I confess, failed abso- 
lutely — unless it is Madam de Laurent's work. 
What was it that changed you overnight into 
a common assassin? Honor isn't much in my 
line, but I'll be shot if I ever did such a thing 


200 Clayton Halowell 

as you tried on me. IVe killed my share of fel- 
low-mortals, and probably will go on killing 
until Tve met my master. But IVe always 
killed in fair, open fight, not by this paid cut- 
throat business. I’d like to know what it all 
means, pink me if I wouldn’t ! ” 

Dalton did not move. 

'' We have always been friends,” Halowell 
continued. I haven’t been a particularly good 
man myself and there are a great many things 
in my life I shall try to live down after my mar- 
riage. This ‘ Two Doves ’ episode shall be the 
foremost if you wish. And if it was Madam 
de Laurent who set you at me — just one word 
to cure you of your madness.” 

Are you a fit person to malign her ? ” asked 
Dalton gloomily. 

'' So it zvas she.” Halowell gave a laugh 
that was far from mirthful. I thought as 
much. It’s wonderful what a woman can do 
with a man; there isn’t a passion from love to 
hate she can’t conjure at will. I never knew 
you were — that is, I never knew I was your 
rival.” (Dalton’s hand clutched at the cover- 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 201 

let, but his face remained impassive. ) “ But 

I’m not a fit person to malign her. Yet warn 
you I can and will. She’s nothing less than 
one of Clinton’s spies. I had intended keeping 
the matter secret until my proof was strong 
enough to frighten her out of the country; 
but she’s too dangerous to be dealt with single- 
handed.” 

Dalton’s face was convulsed, and beads of 
moisture glistened on his forehead. “ A — a 
spy! What do you intend to do?” he mut- 
tered, hoarsely. 

I scarcely know. Her position is so as- 
sured that I shall need strong proof to convince 
her that flight only will keep the Provost 
away.” 

“ Have you — ” The sick man endeavored 
frantically to suppress the apprehension in his 
voice, and succeeded in his effort only because 
of Halowell’s lack of suspicion as to the true 
relation existing between Olive and his pro- 
spective brother-in-law. Have you any 
proof?” 

'' Not an atom that will convict. I shall re- 


202 


Clayton Halowell 

port what I know and saw, and then wash my 
hands of the affair. I'm not so enamored of 
spying that the loss of it will grieve me." 

‘‘ Can you not — is it absolutely necessary to 
make this report ? " faltered Dalton, a world of 
suffering in his hollow voice and livid face. 

Think what she is, and what her death would 
be if — if this slander proved to be true. You 
wouldn’t give her to the hangman, would 
you?" 

I’m not considering myself now. Olive has 
had time to save herself and has seen fit to 
brazen it out. What reason have I for think- 
ing she will cease destroying American lives 
if I continue to be false to my oath ? ’’ And in 
spite of the sick man’s feverish pleading Halo- 
well was adamant in his resolution. 

Then at least wait until I am about," Dal- 
ton cried desperately. “ Call it the whim of a 
sick man, the torture of a lover — anything you 
please ; only promise ! " 

You can do no good, Dalton," Halowell 
replied, with a gentleness that surprised even 
himself. ‘‘ You may only tangle yourself in 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 203 

the thing. An affair of this sort sticks like pitch 
if you touch it. And cut your acquaintance 
with Borden, I should advise; he’s as deep, if 
not deeper, in the business than Olive. Let me 
finish the whole matter before you are up.” 

“ Man, man ! ” Dalton almost shrieked. 
‘‘You love; remember that love and respect 
mine ! ” His cheeks were gray and his eyes so 
wild that for an instant his companion expected 
to be alone with a corpse. And more to avert 
such a catastrophe and calm the dangerously 
excited man than from any sense of right or 
pity, he promised. His words acted like a 
soothing draught and the invalid became more 
rational; and when Joyce returned, she found 
the twain discussing the weather, to all outward 
appearances calm. 

But if Halowell, after taking leave of his 
sweetheart, had been less blind to all but the 
tender, merry face smiling at him from the 
door-step, he would have seen that a pair of 
eyes watched him from an upper window. Be- 
fore he had disappeared the eyes had vanished 
and Dalton was struggling into his clothes. 


204 Clayton Halowell 

Joyce, pondering her happiness in the hall, was 
horrified to see her brother stagger down the 
stairs and, in spite of her tearful remonstrances, 
ride off. Across the river and up the opposite 
slope he trotted, sustained in the journey by the 
force of his love and his fear. 

Madam was out, taking her daily ride. The 
visitor decided to wait and was helped into the 
small salon where, sick and dizzy, he counted 
the seconds for the next thirty minutes. 

Meanwhile, the object of his solicitations was 
having a passive adventure. She had dismissed 
her court at the Morris Hotel and was riding 
alone when Halowell emerged from a lane, saw 
her, and made a movement to return from 
whence he had come. Then, apparently recon- 
sidering his determination he trotted forward 
and bowed. 

May I ride with you ? ’’ 

If I am not too formidable,’^ Olive re- 
plied. You still are on the trail of mysteries, 
I presume?” 

‘‘ I was until an hour ago.” Madam’s brows 
raised in silent question at the use of the past 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 205 

tense. “ Yes, I decided to cut the mystery — 
to turn it over to the Provost. You have not 
appreciated the fact that I was burdening my- 
self solely for your good, so — ” 

“ You have told the ingenuous story to 
Colonel Richards.” Olive finished, flicking a 
fly from her crupper. Halowell did not think 
it worth while to correct her impression, and 
commented on the grandeur of the colors in 
the clouds. 

Chut ! What do you or I care for the 
color of the clouds? What do you hope to 
gain by lodging this information ? ” 

“ Well,” Clayton pursed up his lips medi- 
tatively, “ a colonelcy, perhaps, and relief from 
a very trying position certainly. The Provost 
is the man who properly belongs to this busi- 
ness; and I am not anxious for more of last 
week’s incidents. Which reminds me I haven’t 
thanked you for the evening’s entertainment 
you so thoughtfully provided. I had a most 
enjoyable time, I assure you.” 

“ You are speaking in riddles,” said Olive 
coldly. 


2o6 


Clayton Halowell 


Oh pardon. I was wrong to refer to the 
matter. To change the subject, I am — 

‘‘No, I wish to know — 

“ — to be congratulated — ” 

“ — what you mean — 

“ — upon being a prospective Benedict. You 
are,’^ lightly, “ the first tO hear the news.'' 

In an instant Olive's desire for knowledge 
had flown. She shrank as if struck by her com- 
panion's fist, and every particle of color left her 
cheeks. The gathering darkness veiled a light 
which sprang into her eyes. To further conceal 
the light she discovered that her stirrup was 
short and stooped over the buckle. When finally 
she looked up, her lips, though yet livid, were 
steady, and her erstwhile disloyal orbs inscruta- 
bly calm. 

“Joyce Dalton, I presume," she said, and 
cantered for a yard or so, looking straight 
ahead. “ Of course you realize that this pleas- 
ant arrangement exists only by my suffrage? 
Your fiancee probably has all a school-girl’s 
notions of what a lover should be." 

“ I have not been able yet, but I intend to tell 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 207 

Joyce some day that I haven’t been a good 
man,” said Halowell gravely. “ She is more 
a woman than you give her credit, Olive. — 
This is my road, good night.” 

He was ofif down the shadowy lane that led 
to his quarters almost before his parting was 
uttered, and Olive was alone with the bitterest 
pain a woman has to bear: — though to judge 
by the return of the unholy fire to her eyes, 
the pain of her jealousy was not chastening her 
thoughts. Even Dalton, engrossed as he was 
with his own cares, noticed that she was livid 
when she appeared before him. 

“ Well ! ” she exclaimed, as he bowed over 
her hand. “ What is your bad news ? Out with 
it! I’m in a good mood to be rid of you.” 

The visitor straightened as if a hand had 
suddenly seized his collar. Where was his self- 
respect! Why did he endure these affronts 
from this woman ? But as he had asked himself 
(and Olive) these self-same questions number- 
less times before, he did not attempt their solu- 
tion but took the seat Madam ^periously com- 
manded and answered her question. 


2o 8 Clayton Halowell 

I want to know why you lied to me about 
the man who was outside your window — '' 

“ Because I wished ! 

Dalton's white face flushed and darkened. 
‘‘ You are not fair/' he said bitterly. “ I have a 
right to ask. I suppose you still love him ! " 

If I do, you are willing enough to accept 
the scraps that are left," was the fierce retort. 

Am I never to have a moment's peace from 
your spying and questioning and jealousy? I 
am sick of it all — sick of it, I tell you ! I ride 
with another man — and you must tag after like 
a spaniel; I dance with another man — and you 
must mope in a corner ; I talk to another man — 
and you must whine for a word too. I am sick 
of it!" 

“ God knows I am sick of it too ! " Dalton 
panted. I am sick of it if anyone is, for I was 
an honorable man until I met you; and now 
what am I ? " 

He really was sick and not strictly responsi- 
ble for his words, Olive knew. But he had 
had these attacks of mawkish, feeble sentimen- 
tality so often ! And her patience was not im- 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 209 

pervious to all things. His fever acted as an 
antidote to her own passion and she shrugged 
her shoulders and walked to the door. 

If you cannot talk with even ordinary sense, 
my dear George,’' she said icily, I shall say 
adieu.” 

“ You — you try me so,” whispered Dalton. 
Then, in a firmer voice, I have come to warn 
you that Halowell intends to place his informa- 
tion in the hands of the Provost.” 

Madam closed the door and crossed to her 
companion, who was leaning on a table, very 
miserable and shaken. “ Do you remember 
once I told you that the man who listened at 
my window that night knew nothing I could 
not deny? Well, I tell you now, I lied! Do you 
hear. I lied I He knows everything — who you 
are — how you copy the despatches for us — even 
how they are passed through the lines. He — 
Why don’t you do something ! ” she cried, in- 
terrupting her own stream of fierce words to 
turn passionately upon the livid man at her 
side. “ Why don’t you suggest a way to kill 
him ! Must I plan even this — man’s work ! ” 


1210 


Clayton Halowell 

Dalton wet his lips and stared at his compan- 
ion’s convulsed face. There was no trace of 
love there now ; only hate and tigerish ferocity. 

He — he swore he — had — no proof,” he 
gasped, after his lips had opened thrice and 
emitted no sound. “ And now — and now Joyce 
and he—” 

“ You would have for your brother the man 
who knows every detail of your dishonor ! To 
have him breathe it into his wife’s ear ; to have 
him fling it into your face; to have him tell it 
to his children ; to live with the sword of his tol- 
eration forever at your throat ! That will be a 
pleasant existence, a fine relationship, truly ! ” 
Olive choked and her companion sat down 
heavily, hiding his face in his hands. 

‘‘ He’s steel-proof,” he gasped. “ I tried at 
the ‘ Two Doves ’ — ” 

And failed ! ” screamed Olive. “ Fool ! ” 
She struck the man with her clenched fist, blow 
upon blow, the fires of Hell flaming from her 
passion-lit eyes. “ Fool ! Coward ! Baby ! To 
have him at your point and miss ! Pah ! ” She 
turned away and stamped feverishly to and 


Pertinent Questions are Propounded 21 1 

fro, pressing her hands to her breast as if to 
crush the wild, turbulent pain which raged 
therein. When does his turn for picket in- 
spection come? 

Dalton understood and rose unsteadily. ‘‘ Til 
have nothing to do with it,’’ he whispered. 
‘‘ The man my sister loves ! I tell you I’ll have 
nothing — ” 

‘‘ This is a most convenient time to think of 
your sister. Did she not love the man a 
week ago? — Well, since you’re afraid. I’ll 
play the hand without you. At least I shall 
count on your silence ? ” 

The thinly veiled menace conveyed in the last 
words sent a flush into the Major’s cheeks. 
‘‘ I — ” he began hoarsely, then gulped and said. 
Do what you like. But I’ll not help.** And 
with that he was gone. 


CHAPTER XIV 


WHEREIN MADAM PLANS 

An army packing is as bewildering, from 
a spectacular point of view, as an army on the 
march. This general rule was applicable to the 
Continental camp in 1781. Baggage wagons, 
clumsy, covered affairs, groaned beneath the 
unthought-of quantities of litter necessary to 
the prosecution of the Kingly game of war. 
Orderlies and staff-officers overran the country- 
side on muddy horses, and pointed their re- 
marks with many forcible exclamations. Over- 
worked commissaries strove vainly to explain 
to zealous, but painfully ignorant militia cap- 
tains, that requisition-blanks were distributed 
for the purpose of feeding companies and not 
for the drawing of diagrams descriptive of the 
simplest way by which the enemy could be 
crushed. Quartermaster-sergeants, worried and 


212 


Madam Plans 


213 


ugly, swore thirty to the second over accounts 
which would not balance. Farriers and artifi- 
cers clinked at their forges from dawn to dark- 
ness and seemed to make no headway with their 
eternal tasks. General officers rode to, and de- 
parted from, the busy house on the Newark 
Pike, and the parade-ground and fields adjacent 
thereto were constantly black with shabby es- 
corts and staffs. Consignments of horses and 
bullocks, in charge of bronzed, dirty, unkempt 
devils whose only visible soldierly quality was 
their seat, were shuffled into town and delivered 
to their various consignees. In the cantonments 
men repaired frayed saddles and burnished 
rusty muskets. All was turmoil and confusion 
and gladness — for the army was about to 
move. 

While these preparations were at their height 
gloomy news arrived from the south. General 
Lincoln had been forced to shut himself into 
Charleston; General Clinton was investing the 
town; and Colonel Tarleton was marauding 
the Carolinas with his usual thoroughness and 
an evident intention of stamping the flame of 


214 


Clayton Halowell 


sedition once and for all from the Southern 
States. And so well was Tarleton accomplish- 
ing his object that the meanest drummer or 
camp-follower realized that unless succor was 
given the south would be rent from the con- 
federation. In view of these facts no one was 
surprised when the Maryland and Delaware 
line, and the First regiment of artillery were 
brigaded under command of Baron de Kalb. 
And when the public orders were issued placing 
the destination of the troops beyond conjecture, 
a great whoop of joy from the fortunates, and 
a correspondingly doleful cry from the unfortu- 
nate stay-at-homes, swelled above the general 
din of preparation. 

The night set for Lady Washington's ball, 
the thirteenth, proved to be the one previous 
to the relief-column’s departure. As much 
from compliment to the distinguished host and 
hostess as a desire to fitly end the many asso- 
ciations incident upon the army’s long inactiv- 
ity, the attendance at the ball was universal — if, 
besides the guests, be counted the throngs of 
countrymen and idle soldiers crowding every 


Madam Plans 


215 


available point of vantage near and approaching 
Headquarters, craning at the passing carriages 
and cheering their favorites. 

Of the guests, blue and buff Americans, 
white and gold Frenchmen, weather-beaten 
privateer Captains, and, here and there, red and 
white Englishmen, laughed and danced and 
were as gaily superficial as if life, and the mor- 
row, held no uncertainties or vexations. Wash- 
ington himself opened the dancing with Mrs. 
Knox, M. de Lafayette (lately returned from 
France) walking opposite with Lady Washing- 
ton. In the same set, brilliant and beautiful, 
gowned as an empress and homaged as such, 
was Madam de Laurent. Watching Madam 
from an obscure end of the room, no longer im- 
portant as a member of His Excellency’s offi- 
cial family, was Mr. Dalton. Many people 
piercing the forced calm of the man’s manner 
did not doubt that his disgrace was the cause 
of his desolation; and even while they con- 
demned the gross carelessness by which he him- 
self had encompassed his downfall, they pitied 
his misery. 


2i6 


Clayton Halowell 

The orchestra was tuning for the second 
minuet when Major Halowell banished tearful 
disappointment from a pair of violet eyes by 
rapping on the door of a house in a shady lane 
not two musket shots distant from the scene 
of the festivities. 

'' I was preparing for a nice cry/' said the 
powdered, furbelowed little vision that opened 
the door and flew into his arms, regardless of 
damaging results to lace frill and pleated over- 
skirt. “ What has kept you from me, Clayton, 
thou fallen man? George left an hour ago" 

‘‘ Nay, dear heart," said Halowell, smooth- 
ing back a wandering tress and smiling down 
into the shining eyes which smiled lovingly 
up at him, '' I should be called not ‘ fallen ' but 
‘ foolish.' Since eight o'clock I have ridden 
nearly to Whippany and back." 

‘‘ And why, pray ? " 

“ To carry the dying message of a friend — 
one Richard Winslow — No, no, dearest! It 
was only a hoax. Ten minutes ago I left this 
same Richard riding to quarters to make him- 
self presentable for Madam Washington and 


Madam Plans 


217 


the Carl3^1e girls. But if he had not tired of 
waiting for me at the Thirteen States at Whip- 
pany — well, with all conviction I say it, I should 
not have been here now, and my little pink 
fairy,'’ drawing the gifl closer, kissing her fore- 
head lightly, “ would have been obliged to look 
for another cavalier." 

Joyce paled and threw her arm around Clay- 
ton's neck as if to protect him from the world. 

Another — another trap ? " she gasped. 

Her companion laughed. ‘‘ Ay, another ; the 
third. They’ve tried ambuscade, single-marks- 
man, and, now, this last, which was designed 
to give cold steel a chance, probably. That 
picket-inspection episode was the closest. But 
thank Heaven, it will end to-morrow, for a 
time at least." 

“ Then you are really going with Lord Stir- 
ling? " Joyce's fears for past perils were over- 
shadowed by apprehensions for those of the 
future. “ Must you go, dear? " 

‘‘ If I do not, how shall I bring honor to a 
certain maid whom I know and love? " 

But the maid does not want honor — she 


2i8 


Clayton Halowell 


wants you; and she especially wants you to 
keep far, far from danger/' 

'' Which is a desire I treat thus." Clayton 
seized the cloak which was lying ready for use 
on the hall table, wrapped the girl in it, and, 
whisking her in his arms, carried her down the 
yard to the coach, much to the scandal of the 
colored coachman. Now," he continued, 
when she had retired to her corner, shaking her 
fan at him and declaring that he had ruined her 
gown, Now Madam, make another such re- 
quest and ril carry you straight to His Excel- 
lency and beg him to pillory you for attempted 
treason." 

♦ jK Jji Jk 

If Madam de Laurent were the acknowl- 
edged belle of the ball her enjoyment was not 
in proportion to the exalted position. The an- 
nouncement, “ Major Halowell and Mistress 
Jocelyne Dalton " and the sight of Clayton, 
careless and handsome, and Joyce, radiant and 
laughing, discorded the music for her. Her 
smile froze suddenly and a giddiness wiped the 


Madam Plans 


219 


rich carnation from her cheeks and lips. Be- 
fore the newcomers had advanced beyond the 
threshold she had made a rather incoherent re- 
quest of her partner to take her to the garden. 
On her way up the room she caught a glimpse 
of Dalton’s face, convulsed and sweating, and 
was not pleased at the sight. 

In the cool, whispering silence, and the soft 
lantern-light of the garden, her dismay rapidly 
crystallized to fury. While Hamilton, her com- 
panion, talked of the beauty of the evening and 
the success of the entertainment, she tried 
fiercely to efface certain memories and arrange 
her thoughts. Borden had failed again ! Truly, 
as George had said, the man was steel-proof. 
But he should pay for his crimes to her; there 
were other things in the world than steel and 
powder! Hamilton never connected the sud- 
den tightening of the fingers on his arm with 
the desperate clutch of a desperate mortal. He 
inquired solicitously if he should return for 
a wrap and, upon receiving a negative reply, re- 
turned to his gallantries and platitudes. 

‘‘What has dried the Font of Wit?” he 


220 


Clayton Halowell 


cried. Faith ! I shall think you are bemoan- 
ing my departure unless you quickly disillusion- 
ize me.” 

Olive made an immense effort. “ Which 
thought is another demonstration of the con- 
ceit of man,” she retorted, with a laugh which 
had not one false note in it. 

“ Since you are so unmerciful, in plain lan- 
guage — of what were you thinking ? ” 

“ If I were to tell I would doubtless be ac- 
cused of several crimes against decorum.” 

“ Why?” 

“ The subject of my thoughts was a man.” 

“ And that man not I ? ” Hamilton groaned 
tragically. “ Who is the lucky mortal occupy- 
ing the thoughts of a Queen to the exclusion of 
a very deserving slave ? ” 

“ A certain Mr. Halowell,” laughed Olive. 
Her tone was so light that none other than a 
wizard could have known that it masked a well 
of jealous fury. Like a boy biting on a sore 
tooth to make the pain more endurable, she 
harrowed her soul by discussing the cause of 
her unhappiness. I was thinking how won- 


Madam Plans 


221 


derfully he had risen in two years — from a 
mere trooper, I understand.” 

‘‘ With reluctance do I say it, he’s quite a 
wonderful man.” Knowing the story of Halo- 
well’s rescue of Madam de Laurent, Hamilton 
thought nothing of this exhibition of interest, 
and possibly hoped, by dwelling on its object, 
to advance his own aspirations. His Excel- 
lency takes a vast interest in him as a sort of 
personal discovery, you know. He’s to have a 
chance to win his regiment to-morrow.” 

“ Indeed ? I did not know he was going with 
De Kalb.” 

He’s not — he’s going to Staten Island with 
Stirling on (’tis a military secret, so tremble) 
a raid to cover De Kalb’s departure. There! 
Observe how thoroughly I trust you; what I 
have told isn’t known to a dozen persons in 
the world. Surely that should weigh in favor 
of my devotion.” 

“ The weight overwhelms me,” retorted 
Madam. I vow, the honor of being the con- 
fidante of a staff-officer (even though the staff- 
officer be extremely imprudent) overwhelms 


0.22 Clayton Halowell 

me! — You think then,” returning persistently 
to her original subject, that Mr. Halowell is 
destined to rise in his profession ? ” 

It would be looking too far into the future 
to make that statement. Musket-balls and fever 
have a perverse way of fastening upon the 
strongest.” 

But with reasonable hope? ” 

“ With reasonable good-fortune^ yes. The 
fellow is a devil in a scrimmage, and his men 
would follow him to — the place where brim- 
stone and fire are commonly supposed to 
abound. Now I swear I shall call the Major 
out if you inquire about him further ! ” 

“ Ah, flatterer ! ” Madam smiled and tapped 
the arm upon which she rested. “ 'Tis not a 
small thing for a woman to have lived a winter 
in camp and be heart-whole in the spring. But 
I have done so, and I’m proof against your 
pretty speeches.” And if gleaming, trium- 
phant eyes and a panting breast were evidence 
of her words, she was Truth itself. Returning 
presently to the house, she left her escort and 
walked rapidly to the deserted card-room. 


Madam Plans 


a23 

where Dalton, searching for her for reasons 
best known to himself, presently found her 
scribbling on her dance-card. 

News, George, news!’’ she whispered, in- 
terrupting his salutations by thrusting the card 
into his hand. ‘‘ What we can’t manage 
Knyphausen will. It must go to Borden at 
once ; it’s important, you see.” 

Dalton read the “ Stirling to Staten Island 
to-morrow, via the Short Hills, probably,” that 
was written on the paper, and, as usual, rebelled. 
“ I’ll not do it I ” he muttered, and made a mo- 
tion as if to tear the note. 

Before the action could develop Olive had 
arrested his arm. You are negligent with 
your manners, George. To decline a request! 
’Tis most impolite, I must say. And — ” her 
voice suddenly lost its bantering ring and grew 
hard. And you will take this to Borden or — ” 
Apparently the whispered alternative was 
forceful. Dalton did not wait for its end; and, 
an hour later, as the first of the guests were tak- 
ing leave of their host and hostess, a cipher 
despatch was on its way to Knyphausen and 


!224 Clayton Halowell 

Dalton was gulping neat brandy in the house 
of Mr. Henry Borden. 

Not so many hours after this incident, 
and notwithstanding the dissipation of the 
night, staff-officers were flying up and 
down the Newark Pike, and lines of men 
were forming in one of the fields adjacent 
to the road. Not a great number of men 
were there, lolling on rusty muskets in the gray 
of the morning, knee-deep in the ground mist 
and but half awake. But when, presently, a 
General cantered up to them and the various 
commanders ordered, ‘‘ Forward ! ’’ Stirling 
and Staten Island '' was cheered lustily, and the 
march was begun. 

Not a score of people marked the column^s 
march through the town and out into the Eliza- 
beth Road. The earliness of the hour and the 
fact (as Hamilton had told Madam de Laurent) 
that not a dozen individuals were aware of the 
intended departure, accounted for the lack of 
spectators. Yet of the score who noted the 
lines of marching men, one at least was not pres- 
ent casually. When the ragged rear-guard 


Madam Plans 


225 

had vanished into the gloom this man emerged 
from the thicket that had concealed him, and 
galloped away as if the Furies were at his heels. 
Down into the valley, across the river, up the 
opposite slope, and so to Madam de Laurent's 
door he flew. And by a strange coincidence 
Madam was dressed and pacing the chilly 
lengths of the rosery. 

“ He’s not there, Olive ! He’s not there ! ” 
the man cried desperately, as he flung himself 
from his horse and faced the woman. 

It may have been the fatigue occasioned by 
the lateness of her retiring and the earliness of 
her rising, or it may have been remorse and the 
gnawing of a love which no wounds could kill ; 
but, whatever the cause. Madam’s cheeks were 
chalky and her eyes heavily ringed with black. 
A little pulse beat in her cheek, yet other than 
that sign of repression she was coldly calm as 
usual. 

Who is not where? ” she said curtly, paus- 
ing in her walk to survey the agitated messen- 
ger. ‘‘ Be coherent, please.” 

'' Halowell was not with Stirling.” 


226 Clayton Halowell 

A tinge of red crept into, and then faded 
from the woman’s cheeks. “Are you sure?” 
she whispered, almost eagerly. 

“ I watched every man. God ! I don’t know 
whether to be glad or sorry ! ” 

Before Olive could comment on this observa- 
tion, or question her companion more closely 
upon his news, a stout figure appeared at the 
head of the path, hurrying toward them. Mad- 
am turned from Dalton and advanced a few 
paces to meet the newcomer, whose red face 
was shining with perspiration, in spite of the 
touch of March in the air. 

“ So you know ! ” were the man’s first words. 
His piercing eyes belied his dull mouth, and a 
sly bravery his loose, flabby chin. “ He’s scot 
free again and likely as not to come down on 
us. Pink me! if I’ll ever again depart from 
plain cut and thrust.” 

Madam, to all outward appearances totally 
indifferent to Mr. Borden’s perturbation, stared 
at a withered rose-leaf. “ Do you know why 
he didn’t go ? ” 

“ Change of orders, Powers reports — a con- 


Madam Plans 


227 


voy up West Point way that is more in the 
Major’s line. It’s wonderful,” he went on, 
and very disquieting, how he escapes us every 
time.” And he looked hard at Madam. ‘‘ I 
suppose you two are going to see De Kalb’s 
phalanx off? ” 

Dalton nodded. Olive, however, did not 
look up, so Borden continued.” 

I thought you would be with the well-wish- 
ers, hence this unfashionable call.” He opened 
his coat and took a paper from his pocket. 
“ Here are several things that need attention. 
Hendon sends word that to-morrow’s des- 
patches will contain the key to Heath’s backing 
and filling in the Highlands and that he won’t 
carry them as usual. General’s not suspicious, 
he says, but believes in caution and a change of 
expresses now and then. By hook or crook (or 
some more certain expedient) we must get 
those despatches, if only to delay the movement. 
Then Snyder writes that Putnam is collecting 
supplies, and reconnoitering north. We must 
find out if he means to threaten New York. 
The programme means a busy week for all and 


228 


Clayton Halo well 


a journey for Madam. You,” addressing 
Olive, can start for Princeton at once, I 
suppose ? ” 

Olive nodded and said, To-morrow if you 
wish,” briefly. 

“ And you, Dalton, can attend to the ex- 
press? You owe it to us for bungling yourself 
out of the staff.” 

“ Why am I always picked out for the dirty 
work ! ” muttered Dalton. “ You or Hendon 
can do it as well as I.” 

To have told Dalton that, since he had no 
further access to Headquarters' secrets, in the 
event of a catastrophe he could be more readily 
spared than any other member of the band, 
would have been unwise ; so Borden substituted 
a plausible, “ I cannot stir after dark without 
risking the company of your future brother-in- 
law,” for the truth. And Hendon,” he added, 
has enough to do at Hanover. Come ! ” as 
Dalton turned away, irresolution and a certain 
weak obstinacy struggling in his eyes. Will 
you get the despatches. Yes or no ! ” 

Borden's temper was inclined to be choleric, 


Madam Plans 


229 

and Olive, who had been aroused from her in- 
difference to all but the rose-leaf by the obvious 
importance of possessing the despatches, 
smoothed the sting of the abrupt question by 
laying her hand pleadingly on Dalton’s arm. 

“We need you, George. Sir Henry — ” 

“ Damn Sir Henry ! ” snapped Dalton. Then 
the sight of the beautiful face close to his cheek 
destroyed his resistance. “ Understand,” he 
continued querulously, “ if I do the thing it 
won’t be for Sir Henry or the whole British 
roster ! ” 

“ Then you will do it ! ” broke in Borden, 
only to relapse into watchful silence at a mute 
command from his confederate’s sapphire eyes. 

“ I understand, George,” said Madam softly, 
and slipped her hand down Dalton’s arm until 
her fingers rested upon the clenched fist half 
buried in the wide buff cuff. “ I understand, 
George, and I accept the service — and all it en- 
tails. Now let’s forget politics,” she went on, 
laughing with a gaiety in which her heart had 
no part. “ Both you unfashionable gentlemen 
shall breakfast and ride to the review with me.” 


2^0 Clayton Halowell 

'' ril resign in favor of Mr. Dalton/’ said 
Borden. Instructions for you both will ar- 
rive during the day. Good-by.” 

When the civilian’s bulky form had vanished 
amid the tall rose-trees, Dalton turned and 
kissed the hand that rested upon his wrist. Ma- 
dam absently tapped his bowed head with a 
rose-stalk, and during breakfast, which was 
served in the boudoir-window by Yvette, and 
brightened by the streaming sun and the glori- 
ous view of the valley, was gloomily silent. Even 
the fresh sweetness of the May morning, the 
murmur of forest and river, and the zest with 
which her mare enjoyed the canter down the 
valley and up the Newark Pike to the Head- 
quarter’s parade — even these varied induce- 
ments did not liven her spirits to any appreci- 
able extent. 

By some complex, paradoxal chain of ideas, 
the sight of Halowell and Joyce in the waiting 
throng on the parade-ground brought the rec- 
reant color to her cheeks and the animation to 
her eyes. Even as she greeted the half score of 
men who instantly clustered to her side, she 


Madam Plans 


231 


noticed that Halowell wore his service uniform ; 
and, like Dalton, she was not certain whether 
she was glad or sorry because of his intended 
departure. 

Olive had not been on the parade a minute 
before Joyce spied her. Only Clayton’s per- 
suasion that she watch the ceremony they had 
come to view prevented her from yielding to the 
fascination by which old and young, man and 
woman, were drawn to the siren. De Kalb’s 
lines of marching men scarcely held her atten- 
tion, however, and Halowell wondered savagely 
how much further she would be subjugated, 
and what the object of the subjugation was. Be- 
fore he could satisfy himself on either problem, 
fife and drum began to screech the ever-glorious 
Yankee Doodle,” simultaneous with which 
the spectators cheered and the ragged troops 
swung out upon the highroad in column of 
fours. 

Halowell, waving an envious farewell to an 
acquaintance in the Maryland line, was recalled 
to his dilemma by a tap from his companion’s 
whip. 


2^2 Clayton Halowell 

'' Madam de Laurent is beckoning,” she 
cried, and was off, a pretty, graceful figure 
in her close-fitting habit and her radiant 
youth. 

Olive was in the gayest of spirits now. She 
bowed sweetly to Halowell and kissed Joyce 
with a warmth that set that impressionable 
young lady aglow with rapture. 

‘‘ The other day Mr. Halowell asked me to 
congratulate him,” Madam said. Instead of 
wishing you happiness I should frighten you by 
unearthing the Green Monster. I counted the 
Major my most attentive cavalier before your 
advent, witch.” 

Fm sure,” Joyce laughed, that you can 
spare one from an army.” 

A woman can never spare an admirer. As 
well encourage gray locks and wrinkles. But 
we learn to be surprised at nothing the fickle 
lords of creation will not do. Is that not the 
word, Mr. Hamilton — fickle?” 

“You are much too hard on the sex, 
Madam.” 

“ By showing them the error of their ways ? 


Madam Plans 


233 

Fie! What do you say to this weighty matter, 
Mr. Halowell ? '' 

The question broke rudely upon Clayton’s 
thoughts. He had halted outside the circle of 
gentlemen which surrounded Olive, and was in- 
voluntarily comparing her to Joyce. Both rep- 
resented types of beauty, but each was as dis- 
similar as the sun and the moon. Madam’s 
was the style he had always admired until an 
inexplicable process had caused his tastes to 
veer in the opposite direction. 

“ I’m afraid I’m too biased to hazard an opin- 
ion,” he confessed. And, the field being bare of 
troops, he asked Joyce if she would like to spend 
the two hours before his departure watching 
General Knox’s artillerymen at practice. 

“ Lovers are traditionally insane,” Madam 
observed tranquilly, gazing after the twain as 
they cantered side by side down the green bor- 
dered road. '' Gentlemen, you are dismissed 
for the day — all except Mr. Dalton. Mr. Dal- 
ton, I desire your attendance.” 

For a time Olive and the officer designated in 
the mandate rode in silence, the woman staring 


234 Clayton Halo well 

with unheeHing eyes at the sunny landscape 
which rolled and glistened on every side, the 
man staring at the woman^s wondrous beauty 
and reveling in the fascination of her compan- 
ionship. Then, “ You’ll not fail to-morrow ! ” 
Olive said abruptly. 

The look of helpless, abject adoration by 
which the question was answered set at rest any 
doubts Madam may have entertained as to her 
companion’s loyalty to her cause. And when, 
the following aftei:noon, she embarked for 
Princeton in her green coach (with Yvette and 
a poodle for company, and General Washing- 
ton’s personal pass, and three blue and silver 
out-riders, for protection), she forgot her ani- 
mosity for Major Halowell in a reasonable cer- 
tainty that the Heath dispatches would never 
reach Heath until their contents had been made 
known to the authorities in New York. 


CHAPTER XV 


WHEREIN HALOWELL TAKES HIS REVENGE 

Clayton was at West Point when vague 
rumors of tragedy and treachery spread 
through the garrison. First he heard that His 
Excellency had been murdered; then that Put- 
nam had deserted and carried to the enemy 
every scrap of information relating to the com- 
ing campaign; then that a cavalry raid had 
caught the camp and massacred hundreds. 
Skeptical, perplexed and anxious he, when 
ordered back to Morristown, nearly killed his 
mount in his desire to learn what state of 
affairs had given rise to the wild gossip. 
At the first picket he discovered that, while 
each version had been enlarged and garbled 
with each telling, in the main they were in- 
spired by facts. By the time he reached 
the “ Goat,’' the first statements had sim- 
mered down to the shooting of the weekly 

235 


236 Clayton Halowell 

express to General Heath and the rifling of the 
fellow’s dispatch-box (the very boldness of the 
deed having assured its success and the immun- 
ity of the perpetrator). The cavalry- raid fic- 
tion was caused by nothing less than the return 
of a bruised, bloody, dusty, savage mob under 
Stirlipg, whose complete annihilation in a sur- 
prise at the Short Hills had been averted only 
by a never-failing caution. As it was, Simcoe 
had hung to the broken flanks of his victims, 
harrying and snapping like the bull-dog he was, 
until the smoke of the Continental picket-fires 
had scared him off. In the army’s (not the 
staff’s) mind, the latter disaster overshadowed 
the express’ murder, and the grumbling of the 
men’s anger rose above the hum and bustle of 
their preparations for departure. Men shook 
their heads gloomily over their ale, and com- 
mented on the strange fatality which had over- 
taken nearly all the winter’s raids. And each 
looked askance at his neighbor and was restless 
under the certainty that some trust was being 
betrayed. 

When Halowell broke from the ring of eager 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 1237 

newsmongers who had hailed with delight his 
eagerness for information, every detail of both 
disasters had been crammed into his brain. His 
lips wore a peculiarly hard smile. Linking the 
outrages with his knowledge, he felt like a mur- 
derer himself. But he would purge his con- 
science! An uncontrollable antipathy to in- 
volve Olive in so hideous a scandal, even 
though his silence daily imperilled the army 
and his prospects, and even though the time 
limit set by Dalton had long expired, had thus 
far held him from declaring the traitors. The 
light of these recent events, however, placed 
duty above sentiment; and in a very adaman- 
tine mood indeed, he rode into town and drew 
rein before the Provost’s office. 

As bad luck would have it. Colonel Richards 
had left for Mendham and was not expected to 
return before the following morning. Halowell 
could not tell his story to the youthful deputy 
who gave him the unwelcome information. The 
following evening, tired as he was with a long 
day in the saddle, he once more prepared to un- 
burden his soul. And once again did Fate re- 


!238 Clayton Halowell 

buff him. Richards had returned, but it was 
lodge-night, and the deputy pointed across to 
the gaily lighted windows of the Morris Hotel 
in answer to the Major’s query. Halowell 
hesitated to intrude upon the merrymakers; 
and, having hesitated, he decided that, inas- 
much as he had held his secret three weeks, his 
troublesome and distasteful duty could be dis- 
charged in the morning. 

As he crossed the green after having come to 
this conclusion his horse shied violently and 
called attention to a dark figure slipping from 
tree to tree. The sight was sufficient to point 
the suspicions with which Halowell’s mind was 
impregnated. In grim silence he collared and 
dragged a struggling swearing captive to a 
nearby lamp, and turned the fellow’s face to the 
light. 

“ You’d better let me go,” the man affirmed 
sullenly. “ I’m carrying despatches to General 
Heath.” 

“ Then why don’t you go about it like an 
honest man?” Halowell, however, did not 
loosen his grip. '' Let me see the despatches. 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 1239 

Hm! They seem to be in order. To what 
troop do you belong? ” 

Capt’n Bacon’s — Pennsylvania line.” 

Well, when I see Captain Bacon I shall not 
fail to tell him that his courier’s manner is pecu- 
liar and that his tongue is too free. Good- 
night.” 

More relieved at the outcome of this little 
adventure than he cared to confess Halowell, 
after watching the messenger slink into the 
darkness, shook his bridle and started once 
more for his quarters. The road lay past the 
busy, lighted Ford House, and the head of 
Joyce’s lane. Further out toward Whippany it 
skirted lines of picketed horses, and swathed 
guns, and the deserted huts of De Kalb’s troops. 
Then the passing of more huts brought the 
rider to the edge of the oak-surrounded meadow 
which was his destination. 

Here he left the road. He was cantering 
over the rough track that led to the double 
row of huts that composed the cantonment, 
when the clink of a sabre sounded from a 
thicket ahead of him. Instinct and training im- 


24.0 Clayton Halowell 

mediately fired his alarm. In a twinkling he 
had reined in and drawn a pistol. Why was a 
body of horse concealed practically in the 
midst of camp? Visions of the fulfilment of 
the British threat against the liberty of His Ex- 
cellency flashed into his mind. Patrol ! Pa- 
trol ! he bawled, galloping toward the fringe 
of scrub-oak which masked the suspicious 
sounds, and hoping by his cries to attract either 
the watch or the least sleepy members of his 
regiment. “ Within the wood, there ! '' 

An answer to the challenge came in the shape 
of a horseman and a lighted lantern. As Halo- 
well pulled up uncertainly the apparition flashed 
the light into his face. 

“ Hello Bacon — What the dev — ” 

The ejaculation fell upon empty air, for with- 
out a word the lantern-bearer vanished again 
into the trees. 

“ ril be hanged ! exclaimed Halowell, and 
slowly shoved his pistol back into its holster. 
‘‘ Queer happenings, horse. Did he take us for 
highwaymen or spies? ” 

It was after ten, and, the stable-detail having 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 241 

retired to the seclusion of a quiet dicing, Clay- 
ton was his own hostler. When the nag had 
been made comfortable he sought his hut, 
pulled off his boots, lighted a pipe, and snuffing 
the candle, settled back on his stool near the 
door to ponder the strange appearance of his 
colleague and the annoying mischances which 
kept him still partner to Olive’s crimes. 

The silence, except for the gentle confidences 
which oaks and brook exchanged, was absolute 
and, after the bustle and turmoil of the day, was 
sweeter than the rarest melody. Halowell could 
enjoy it too, for he was at peace with the world. 
Spurred by the witchery of the hour. Ambition 
and Cupid stole his senses. Ambition built him 
gorgeous palaces, and Cupid led therein a cer- 
tain brown-eyed, roguish girl. Then Ambition 
brought money-bags and honors and piled them 
upon the threshold of the palace; and Cupid, 
not to be outdone, waved his bow — and lo! a 
toddling child appeared upon the money-bags 
and lisped “ Father,” in baby-talk — 

And then the gorgeous palace, the brown- 
eyed girl, and the lisping child vanished in a 


Clayton Halo well 


142 

thunder clap. Halowell would have sworn, as 
he opened his eyes, that the child screamed. 
He looked around in the bewilderment of half- 
sleep, still rubbing his eyes, when a second pis- 
tol banged. The report was not loud enough 
to have come from Bacon's troopers concealed 
in the oaks ; and as it did not occur again Halo- 
well concluded it was from some restless picket 
and cursed the fellow fervently. This relief to 
his feelings had scarcely ended when a third 
shot, and, close upon its heels, the thud, thud, 
of a galloping horse, startled him into com- 
plete wakefulness. He was on his feet, peering 
into the darkness, in an instant. 

Nothing more suspicious than the vaguely- 
marked highway in the middle distance, and the 
twinkling of the picket-guard’s fires far beyond, 
repaid his survey. Thoroughly mystified, he 
was about to turn away when a shrill “ Boots 
and Saddles,” and the creak and clash of a body 
of mounting cavalry rose from the copse. 
Treading on the heels (as it were) of these 
sounds, came Bacon’s troopers in extended or- 
der. Halowell could see them bouncing to- 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 1243 

ward the highroad like two-score animated 
blots. They trailed away eastward; and then 
silence again. 

How long he stood in the doorway staring 
after the vanished troop, Halowell could never 
tell. Minutes were as seconds during the strain 
of waiting — for what he knew not. A few 
sleepy voices called from hut to hut to know 
what the trouble was. This languid interest 
died out and the whole meadow lay quiet and 
star-lit and, to the watching man, deserted save 
for the end of a neighboring cabin. Clumps 
of berry bushes and knuckles of rock spotted 
the long, basin-like depression. There was ab- 
solutely nothing to cause alarm — 

Halowell shrank suddenly and crouched in 
the shadow of the door. His eyes became 
riveted on a roll of the meadow directly in a 
line with, and not a dozen yards from, his hut. 
A man was crawling swiftly between the 
bushes at that point. 

It came to Halowell in a flash that the man 
was making for the rough, wooded ground be- 
yond the huts; and before the thought was 


Clayton Halo well 


244 

fairly formed he was taking his part in the un- 
intelligible drama. The crawling man heard 
him dashing through the tall grass, and leaped 
to his feet, a knife glittering in his hand. 

But a battery would not have swerved Halo- 
well. He ran in beneath the knife, and had 
its possessor on the ground before the steel 
could more than flash. The fellow showed 
fight; and only after he had been disarmed and 
throttled did he accept his fate. 

“ Now I’ll ask what it means,” panted the 
victor. ‘‘We’ll have no — H ell's Fury!" 

“ You — You needn’t be so rough with a vis- 
itor,” Dalton said, rubbing his throat in a piti- 
fully transparent attempt at jocularity. “ I’ve 
come for my sword.” He was gasping, and his 
face was wet with perspiration; and the quick, 
haunted looks he cast to right and left, and the 
nervous pauses in his speech, sent a sickening 
fear to his hearer’s heart. “ I’ve come — for my 
sword. Halo well,” he repeated. 

Halowell breathed deeply. “ What have 
they come for ? ” he whispered. 

The question was occasioned by the sound of 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 245 

a voice calling from the road, and another an- 
swering from the copse. Along the crest of the 
roll of land down which Dalton had crept a dim 
silhouette was striding and a lantern was pick- 
ing sparks on the high boots and slender spurs 
of an officer and flaming on the broad scab- 
bards of a dozen attendant troopers. From the 
line of trees that marked the highway a fan- 
like mass of men (a dismounted troop, Halo- 
welFs experience told him) was creeping over 
every inch of ground between it and the bridle 
path to the huts. Completing the circle was the 
hubbub of voices sounding at the far end of the 
regimental street. 

And then Dalton went to pieces and grovelled 
and crawled on his knees, and begged to be 
hidden — to be hidden for Joyce’s sake! 

She would die if I were taken I ” he whim- 
pered in a frenzy of abject fear. You love 
her ! Would you kill her ? Would you I ” 

Halowell’s breath was again congested. 
When he spoke it was to say, “ Good God ! ” 
very quietly. 

'' Would you kill her ! ” repeated Dalton, and 


246 Clayton Halowell 

a sudden thrill of hope lightened the hoarseness 
of his voice. She — she — 

“ Get up and follow me ! ’’ Halowell mut- 
tered, and keeping in the shelter of the shallow 
valley, led the way to the hut. It was only a 
few steps, but the journey seemed endless. 
When the door was closed Dalton sank weakly 
upon a stool and his miserable captor walked to 
the window and rested his elbows upon the sill. 
Presently he looked around ; and the frightened 
coward who was trading on man's holiest af- 
fection to save his worthless neck, was shocked 
and awed by the change wrought in the few 
moments of silence. Deep furrows seamed 
Halowell's cheeks, and blue rings of suffering 
had appeared beneath his eyes. In spite of his 
agony no shadow of pity softened the sternness 
of his features. Yet in its stead was an inex- 
plicable something which told the shivering, 
gasping fugitive that his plea had borne the 
desired fruit. 

Get under the cot," whispered Halowell. 
The cordon of searchers was drawing steadily 
nearer the door and escape into the open was 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 247 

impossible. “ I’ll save your neck if I can. No I 
No thanks ! ” He drew away his hand with so 
fierce a loathing that the supplicant flushed, 
notwithstanding the force of his terror. “ I 
would help pull the rope myself, and fill you 
full of lead afterward for a damned spying 
hound if — if you weren’t the brother of your 
sister.” 

“ I’ll never do it again, I swear, Halowell.” 

“ I suppose it was you who murdered Bill- 
ings last week ! ” snarled Halowell, and raised 
his fist. But the action being purely involun- 
tary, its menace was instantly softened to a 
motion for the fugitive to crawl beneath the 
truckle-bed — the only cover in the room. When 
the silent command had been obeyed the white- 
faced host seated himself once more beside the 
door and relighted his pipe. He dared not 
think ; but he must plan. By the sounds, every 
hut in the cantonment was being searched, and 
he would need his wits, as he had seldom 
needed them before, for Joyce. When the 
searchers finally came, they found him cool and 
ready. 


248 Clayton Halowell 

Evening again, Mr. Halowell,’' Captain 
Bacon said briskly. He was a square, middle- 
aged New Englander, with a resolute mouth 
and the eyes of a devil. “ We’re on the scent 
of a spy at last, praise Heaven. He tried a 
shot at Buckwell, of my troop, back by the 
river, but we were expecting him this time — 
Ho there. Ball ! Stick the lantern into the 
bushes, man! — You haven’t seen the fellow, 
have you ? ” 

“ No.” Halowell fully realized that the lie 
burned his bridges, and that the penalty at- 
tached to the crime of shielding a traitor was 
death. I’ve seen no one. Do you want to 
search? I’ll strike a light.” He lit a dip and 
stuck it in the tin holder without a tremor mar- 
ring the steadiness of his hand. ‘‘ Don’t stand 
in the door — come in. Bacon.” 

‘‘ Thanks, Major, but I’ll stay here and 
watch the boys. Buckwell! on the roof with 
you and have a peep down the chimney! — If 
you haven’t been away from here since I saw 
you yonder, the fellow certainly can’t be in your 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 249 

palace and I certainly won't waste time in a 
formality." 

“ Why should anyone try to shoot Buck- 
well ? ” Halowell asked, after having watched 
the seachers rout out sleepers and pull cots 
apart with business-like disregard for the pro- 
tests of the outraged occupants. 

Bacon laughed gleefully. “ Because, d'ye 
see, it was advertised that despatches would be 
carried to-night, and Buckwell was the man to 
carry them. It's my scheme, too; slick, don’t 
you think ? " 

Halowell agreed that the trick was slick and, 
after knocking the ashes out of his pipe, asked. 
Have you any description of the traitor ? " 

“Nothing regular, but enough. Tall, and 
wore a mask, Buckwell says. He's in this hol- 
low somewhere and we'll get him, don't you 
worry." 

“ I'm not," said the listener evenly. 

At this moment there appeared upon the 
threshold a heavy, square- jawed man, who 
grinned at Halowell and whom that gentleman 


250 Clayton Halowell 

instantly recognized as the free talker he had 
captured and chidden on the Green a few hours 
before. The fellow set his lantern on the floor 
near the foot of the cot and made a hurried re- 
port to his commander. The Major could not 
but admire the pluck with which the man had 
invited death. He expressed his thoughts, and 
had gotten as far as, You deserve a troop, my 
man, sink me if you don't ! ” when his throat 
grew suddenly dry and the words failed to 
come. Just beyond the circle of light cast by 
Buckwell’s lantern lay a mask that was spot- 
ted with fresh blood. Luckily Bacon was ab- 
sorbed with his trooper and so did not observe 
the flicker of panic which whitened his host’s 
face. Reckless as he was, Halowell could not 
regard death on the gallows without this mo- 
mentary shrinking. A shot or a sabre-stroke 
could be laughed at, but not a rope. 

Buckwell was picking up his lantern and sa- 
luting when Halowell’s faculties regained their 
normal altitude of interested imperturbility. 
He took a quick stride toward the damning 
oval of silk. 



“Just you leave it. 


yy 


said a voice from 


the darkness. 
— Page 251. 












Halowell Takes His Revenge <251 

^‘Just you leave it” said a voice from the 
darkness, and the muzzle of a pistol appeared 
over the window-sill and covered him. “ Look 
on the floor, Capt’n, by the foot o’ the 
cot.” 

Bacon whirled around, saw, and slowly 
picked up the mask. Buckwell brought his lan- 
tern, and the pair stared first at the spotted silk 
and then at Halowell, amazement, doubt, sus- 
picion and conviction painted successively in 
both blunt countenances. Without, the oaths 
and crashes incident to the search were sound- 
ing loudly; within, the silence was of the 
breathless variety with which one awaits a 
calamity. 

Presently Bacon spoke. What’s this ? ” he 
asked, holding up the mask. “ And these ? ” 
pointing to the blood-spots. 

Halowell’s lips were white and his voice a 
trifle unsteady, but, It’s a mask, I should 
say,” he replied, and shrugged his shoulders. 

And my mare’s blood,” growled Buckwell. 

Wet, too, you see, Capt’n.” 

He was agoin’ to kick it under the bed,” 


252 Clayton Halowell 

volunteered the trooper at the window. “ Shall 
I shoot? 

No.’' Bacon’s voice was ominously quiet. 
'' No, Krause, lead is too good for this gentle- 
man. He’ll have a chance to explain things 
later. You may collect the men; I think they 
need hunt no further.” Then, turning to 
Halowell, who was absently clinking his nails 
upon his tobacco- jar, I arrest you. Major 
Halowell, in the name of the Continental Con- 
gress and His Excellency, General Washing- 
ton. You are my prisoner, sir.” 

Few men are consistently bad, and for a 
second Dalton, in the security of his black cor- 
ner and of Bacon’s headstrong jumping at con- 
clusions, hesitated to accept this means of es- 
cape. But Nature allows no rebellion among 
her weaklings; and after the first flush of hor- 
ror occasioned by the unexpected turn of events, 
she forced the Coward above the Man. Dalton 
knew Halowell would not voluntarily besmirch 
Joyce’s name. And there would be time to 
effect a rescue before an execution could take 
place. The coward’s ever-present cry, There 


Halowell Takes His Revenge 253 

is time,” was the traitor's sole plea, his single 
extenuation for this more than dastardly act, 
which had not even the saving grace of love- 
inspiration, as had his crimes against the gov- 
ernment. And Halowell, his lips whiter than 
the lace of his frill, and his soul a fierce jumble 
of emotions (fear for Joyce, savage scorn for 
her brother, and anguish for himself), marched 
away between two files of sternly-silent 
troopers. 


CHAPTER XVI 


WHEREIN A MAN STRUGGLES AND IS VIC- 
TORIOUS 

The second day of captivity and the first 
session of the trial were over, and Halowell, 
shaken and livid, was pacing his darkening cell. 
In the two latter years of his life position and 
honor in his profession had been the sole bea- 
cons of his existence. Almost the only events 
at which he need not blush incident to these 
aims were his love for Joyce and his army rec- 
ord. Like a widowed mother, he had nursed 
these two loves until they had grown a part of 
his life. With the hideous certainty that their 
loss was but the matter of hours and the whim 
of one vacillating coward, his soul filled 
with an agony never before experienced. If 
he could only die! If the dastard would only 
confess! If — He dashed the perspiration 

fiercely from his forehead, wondering as fierce- 
ly at his own sensations. The usual indififer- 
254 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 255 

ence with which he regarded death or ill-luck 
was so completely swallowed in his new horror 
that he felt almost as if another man were oc- 
cupying the flesh of the old Clayton. And 
certainly no one would have recognized in this 
pallid, haggard, suffering man, the swagger- 
ing, genial, debonair soldier of yesterday. It 
was not the actual death, degrading and un- 
soldierly as it was, that frightened the cap- 
tive — it was the fear that Joyce believed him 
guilty and that Washington would think him 
ungrateful. 

At length, exhausted by the violence of his 
own pain, Halowell threw himself upon the 
cot. The low mutter of the guards outside the 
door recalled the scenes of the day’s trial. In 
the two muttering voices the tortured man 
heard all the hateful sounds which, a few hours 
before, had deafened and deadened his senses. 
The jostling of the crowds; the stares and mut- 
tered curses of the spectators; the shrill hoots 
of the urchins in the street; the interminable 
shuffle of feet and mumble of voices in the low 
room back of the Provost’s offlce — ^all returned 


1256 Clayton Halowell 

to him now in one great wave of horror. He 
dared not think of the outcome of the trial. In- 
deed, there was no necessity for thought on the 
subject; his persistent silence, and the damning 
evidence of Bacon, Buckwell, and the re- 
mainder of the squad which had captured him 
were conviction in themselves. That much had 
been patent in the hardening lips of the court, 
as, hour after hour, corroboration after corrob- 
oration had been piled up. Bacon, recounting 
his visit to the accused’s quarters and the find- 
ing of the bloody mask, had been convincing in 
his terseness. Buckwell, telling of the meeting 
on the Green, had conclusively proved the 
knowledge of the accused to the existence of 
the dispatches. Trooper Krause had established 
the fact that the mask could not have been in- 
nocent, else why the necessity of surreptitiously 
concealing it. And yet, in spite of this heap of 
evidence, there was to be another session in the 
morning, when, the judge-advocate had an- 
nounced, he would sum up his case and demand 
a verdict. 

As the hours had dragged wearily along the 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 257 

silent, impassive prisoner had realized that his 
act of criminal complicity in high treason was 
resolving itself into one of suicide. A thousand 
times he applied to himself every fierce invec- 
tive his extended vocabulary contained. One 
little word would clear him and convict the 
traitor — one little word which forever died still- 
born on his lips. And because of his contuma- 
cious silence the evidence, unchecked, built a 
gallows. He had searched for Joyce and her 
brother amid the rows of strained faces that 
filled the Court-room, and had rebelled bitterly 
when he had not found the former. The latter, 
he discovered wavering and sweating in a cor- 
ner. For a full minute captive and traitor had 
stared. Then Dalton’s eyes had dropped. The 
next time the prisoner looked, the hatefully 
familiar face had vanished and with it the last 
ray of hope which unconsciously had buoyed 
his spirits. He had accepted his fate passively. 
Now he wondered idly if the fellow’s soul were 
as harrowed as was his, and derived a certain 
grim comfort from the recollection of his quiv- 
ering, paste-white face. 


258 Clayton Halo well 

Darkness does not always salve a pain, and 
for all his stoicism, Halowell welcomed the first 
sign of dawn! The sight of the sun painting 
the purple clouds with crimson, and the sound 
of the birds carrolling greeting to the god of 
day, soothed him. But as the time drew near 
for the repetition of the previous day's ordeal 
the reserve the few hours' rest had built around 
his heart gave way and the old Halowell burst 
forth in a whirlwind of passion. His mouth 
lost its curve of suffering and was cut with a 
hard line. He would not be a martyr to a silly, 
irresponsible impulse — a quixotic whim — a dis- 
torted notion of honor! He would not give 
his life that a cur — a miserable wretch whose 
existence had been, and would be, a lie — might 
continue his puerile existence ! In a frenzy he 
beat on the door with his fists and roared for 
the guard. When, however, that drowsy offi- 
cial appeared, it was to find the prisoner the 
impassive, silent individual whom Bacon had 
delivered to him the previous day. For, be- 
fore the man had arrived there had flashed into 
Halowell's mind a vision (a flower-tinted face 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 259 

with tender lips that drooped pitifully, and 
velvet eyes that were brimming with tears), 
and a fact (that he was not doing his martyr- 
dom for the man) . The girl would never know 
the impulse that had led the condemned 
traitor to his death. But the rope should do 
its work and welcome so that the flower-face 
did not wither and the velvet eyes dim. 

While these thoughts were directing the pris- 
oner’s resolution the young sentry at the gate 
of the Ford House was rattling his musket to 
a charge and peering into the face of a haggard 
woman who was demanding admission to liis 
Excellency. 

“ What name, mistress ? ” he asked, made 
courteous by a strange placidity in the white 
face of the applicant. 

On giving her name the newcomer was 
ushered up the curved walk and the three low 
wooden steps that led to the Headquarters’ 
door. A couple of aides were in the narrow 
hall, brushing their cloaks and strapping on 


cl6o Clayton Halowell 

their spurs preparatory to the day’s work. Both 
the men knew the woman, but neither ventured 
a remark, the expression which the sentry had 
mistaken for placidity being plain enough to 
them. 

In here, mistress,” said the guide, and 
opened the door of an airy, square room, 
flooded with the early sunshine. 

Left alone, with incongruous deliberation 
Joyce noted the books, maps and papers which 
littered chairs, window-seats and portable 
shelves. A long table near the window bore a 
map of Virginia and North Carolina. A pair 
of horn glasses, a sword, and a triangular hat 
decorated with a black cockade, lay on a side- 
table. Beside the hearth, spread on a chair as if 
set out the previous evening to dry, was a huge 
black cloak. On the chimney-piece lay a pile of 
warrants labelled in staring black letters. This 
latter sight set the visitor shivering. The 
weakness was nothing, however, to that 
caused by the sound of approaching footsteps. 
Joyce rose and braced her nerves for the 
ordeal. 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 261 

When the door opened, instead of the mild, 
handsome countenance Joyce had expected, 
there appeared the merry brown one of Billy, 
the faithful body-servant of His Excellency. 
The man cast a quick look at the cloaked little 
figure standing beside the door, bowed, and 
proceeded to put the room in order and light 
the fire. 

Scarcely had the tasks been accomplished 
when the door opened again and the man before 
whose blows the might of England had re- 
coiled, and in whose calm eyes were centered 
the hopes of a nation and of one shivering girl, 
entered. The coldness of habitual self-repres- 
sion lined his mouth, only to be contradicted by 
the sadness which softened his blue eyes. The 
mulatto tiptoed across the room and vanished, 
closing the door behind him. 

The General paused an instant to survey his 
visitor. He had not discharged the duties of 
his arduous position for five years without hav- 
ing acquired a knowledge of the symptoms of 
distracted womanhood. Though his heart bled 
for each individual sufferer of the dozens who 


262 


Clayton Halo well 

daily sought his mercy for some erring dear 
one, their pain and his pity had never been 
placed above the public welfare. Joyce knew this 
and realized the hopelessness of her errand. But 
when Washington, after the momentary hesita- 
tion at the door, started forward and, with 
tender gallantry, placed a chair for her, she 
poured forth her plea for mercy as passionately 
as if its success were assured. Sobs often kept 
her silent for minutes, but the gentle gentle- 
man into whose heart the broken sentences 
v/ere searing saw only the womanly suffering 
of the narrator, not the lavish and useless waste 
of precious moments the recital caused. 

My poor little girl ! My poor little girl ! ’’ 
he whispered, when she had finished and was 
gasping in her handkerchief. 

Joyce eagerly seized upon the pitying excla- 
mation. “ Think too, of his record,’^ she con- 
tinued. “ It has been stainless. That should 
count in his favor. I know how greatly ap- 
pearances are against him, but he won’t speak 
and he may be shielding some companion. 
Perhaps — perhaps it is some one you or I know 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 263 

and love and respect. He would do such a 
thing for one he loved.'' 

The General's pity was as apparent as the 
sun and made the weight of his answer all the 
more terrible to the panting supplicant. 

“ The very arguments you use, Mistress Dal- 
ton," he said, “ recoil against Major Halo well. 
' His record,' you say. It has been spotless. 
But surely the fact that up to now it has been 
so clear is the more reason why his crime should 
be considered the more heinous. Ah, you sob ! 
Think of the scores whom his treason has 
caused to sob before you. Think of the com- 
rades whom he has wilfully sacrificed. Think 
of our country, imperilled by his acts. And 
his silence. If he be shielding the real culprits 
(and there are surely more than he in this af- 
fair) is not the act also treason? He knows 
the penalty for such a crime and must speak or 
suffer." 

I — I love him so ! " Joyce sobbed. 

Washington's mouth grew more tender, and 
he laid a gentle hand on the bowed, quivering 
shoulders of his guest. 


264 


Clayton Halowell 


I will not ask you to deny that love, my 
child,” he said, a world of compassion ringing 
in his voice. “ What I will say is this — Try 
to live the love down, to think of it as a dream 
that brought a transient happiness, and van- 
ished with the morning sun. It sounds hard to 
3^ou, I doubt not. It is hard ; yet you must do 
it.” 

The emphasis on the last sentence was 
marked and the girl dried her eyes in a des- 
perate kind of calm. 

Then you will do nothing?” she whisp- 
ered, white-lipped. 

I am powerless, as you must see.” 

And Clayton must — must die ? ” 

The noble head bowed. Unless he clears 
himself. The army demands a life for the many 
sacrificed by treason. And their demands are 
not only reasonable but just.” 

Joyce smoothed her gloves mechanically, her 
heart too numb to feel the horror of her failure. 
Her calmness alarmed the General and he 
poured out a glass of brandy and held it to 
her. The girl’s attention was riveted on the 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 265 

Grecian border cut in the tiny glass; on the 
pretty color of the liquor; on the effect of the 
sun-light through the rich brown; on every 
trivial circumstance connected with the glass 
and its contents. When Washington said, 
“ Drink it, child,” she shook her head. But at 
his sympathetic insistence she presently gulped 
the liquid and felt stronger in body for it. 
When she reached home, however, where the 
surroundings were eloquent of her love, the 
dam of strained inactivity gave away. She did 
not cry now but sat in the bow- window, a white, 
motionless statue- amid the brilliant geraniums, 
so terrifying in her silent agony that her 
brother neglected to blaze into anger when he 
learned the errand that had taken her out at 
such an hour. 

The sun was not many hours high when its 
brightness became obscured in banks of flat, 
gray clouds and a curtain of warm, sticky, per- 
sistent rain. A mist crept up from the soaked 
earth, blurring the hills and hanging like a pall 


0.66 


Clayton Halowell 


upon the crowded town-green. At the height 
of the weather's inclemency a corporal’s guard 
tramped into a crowded room, a sternly com- 
posed man in their midst. 

The court was settled. At the head of the 
long, paper-strewn table sat the president, a 
white-haired infantry colonel. On either side, 
stretching to the judge-advocate’s chair at the 
foot of the board, were officers from every 
branch of the service, gathered to pass judg- 
ment upon their delinquent comrade. Before 
each judge, forming a rim of color to the dis- 
ordered files of paper and piles of books, lay a 
chapeau, busby or helmet. Two candelabra lit 
the double row of impassive faces and brought 
those of the spectators into peculiar promi- 
nence. Halowell was idly sorry the lights had 
been placed there, for they showed familiar 
faces grown unrecognizing and hard. 

The prisoner paid no attention to the routine 
business of opening court. His eyes, after their 
first general survey of the scene, slipped rapidly 
from face to face with a suppressed half-hope, 
half-dread. Was Joyce present? Finally he 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 267 

saw her watching from the voluminous shelter 
of a group of honest countrywomen who were 
alternately admiring the prisoner’s handsome 
face and remembering a son or a cousin or a 
sweetheart who had perished in the winter 
raids. The girl smiled bravely in answer to a 
dumb appeal for faith. Halowell tried to an- 
swer the smile with one as cheerful, and was 
succeeding fairly well when a sudden silence 
portended the beginning of the serious business 
and distracted him. The judge-advocate had 
risen and the court-martial was in its last dread 
work. 

“ My evidence, gentlemen,” the advocate 
began, has been offered. I have no more 
witnesses to call, and have only to ask the pris- 
oner if, at this critical state of affairs, he will 
break his silence and either confess or deny the 
charges against him.” 

“ Prisoner ! ” said the white-haired president, 
and Halowell rose. '' Prisoner, will you confess 
to, or deny, the charges against you ? ” 

The silence deepened as each spectator held 
his or her breath that no syllable of the answer 


268 


Clayton Halowell 

might be lost. Yet there was no occasion for 
perturbation; when the prisoner spoke it was 
in a voice distinctly audible to the furthest ends 
of the room. 

“ I regret, sir, any seeming disrespect to 
the court, but I can make no exception in even 
this case to the rule I have adhered to during 
this trial.’’ 

You have nothing to state? ” 

“ I have nothing to say, sir.” 

“ Then, gentlemen, my case is closed,” an- 
nounced the advocate, and, upon the prisoner’s 
resuming his seat, began his summing up. For 
some months, he said, the commander-in-chief 
had been aware of the existence of a clique of 
traitors from whom the enemy obtained ad- 
vance information of every movement of Con- 
tinental troops. From the magnitude of the 
operations carried on by these traitors it was evi- 
dent their numbers were considerable and their 
organization perfect, and that they had access 
to the inmost workings of the army machinery. 
Of late these men (Halowell smiled faintly at 
the use of the masculine noun) had grown bold 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 269 

to impudence and, in conformity with the old 
adage, had been given rope with which to hang 
themselves. One of the band, the prisoner, had 
been captured red-handed, with the appurten- 
ances and proofs of his crimes in his possession. 
He had not confessed, nor had he denied any 
one of the several charges. Proof positive, 
however, had been offered by a dozen reliable 
witnesses that the highwayman who had fired 
on Lieutenant Buckwell (Halowell noted the 
title and was glad BuckweU’s reward had come 
so quickly) had been of the same height and 
figure as the prisoner. Captain Bacon and 
Trooper Krause had testified to the attempt of 
the prisoner to secrete a certain mask, the same 
designated in evidence as exhibit C. As to 
any question in the minds of the honorable 
court regarding the possibility of passing from 
the scene of the attempted crime to the scene 
of the arrest within the half hour between the 
prisoner's meeting with Captain Bacon and his 
being taken into custody, trial had proven that 
the feat was not only possible but extremely 
easy, thanks to an old forage track through the 


270 Clayton Halowell 

forest in the rear of the cantonment. The whole 
case, viewed calmly and dispassionately, 
showed treason or treasonable complicity; and 
in face of the overwhelming mass of fact and 
proof offered, there was only one conclusion to 
draw — only one verdict to be rendered. That 
conclusion was “ guilty,’^ and the verdict should 
be “ Guilty.^^ 

The officer resumed his seat amid a murmur 
of applause. The demonstration being quickly 
suppressed, Clayton watched the judges con- 
verse and rustle through files of paper, as unin- 
terested as if their discourse concerned the 
proper calibre of guns for a new fortification, or 
the number of men necessary for a move on 
New York. Soon he tired of the watching and, 
not daring to trust himself to seek Joyce, turned 
to the window and found amusement in the 
family quarrel of four sparrows on the limb of 
a nearby tree. He noted that the rain had 
ceased and that the mist was rolling away from 
the river, disclosing Olive's great house on the 
further slope and the lines of waving trees on 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 271 

tlie far-away hills. Then he was sternly bidden 
to rise. 

The lack of movement in the room was op- 
pressive. An attendant had blown out the 
candles, and the odor of hot wax was noticeable 
above that of damp leather. Every eye was 
riveted upon the impassive face and steady lips 
of the prisoner. Joyce felt a wild, almost un- 
controllable desire to shriek. The dire sol- 
emnity of the occasion rose superior to the 
mean, stuffy, dusty room. A man, a former 
comrade, a fellow-officer, was to hear his 
doom. 

“ Prisoner,’' the president began. “ Prisoner, 
if you have aught to say as to why the verdict 
of guilty should not be pronounced against you, 
speak.” 

For an instant the epaulettes of the judges 
bobbed erratic jigs before Halo well’s- eyes. He 
involuntarily sought the still, white face in the 
corner. Reading therein a misery which would 
only be increased a thousand fold by knowledge 
of the truth, he shook his head. 


! 27^2 Clayton Halowell 

‘‘ I have nothing to say, Colonel,’’ he said 
steadily. 

The president was puzzled and showed it. In 
spite of all proof to the contrary, he found it 
hard to believe that a soldier of Major Halo- 
well’s known valor could stoop to deliberate 
spying and felonious connivance. But his duty 
was to the army and the country, and his fea- 
tures hardened after a momentary relaxation. 

“ Will you state the names of your com- 
panions in treason? ” he asked coldly. Such 
an action, I may say, will materially affect our 
sentence.” 

Again the steady eyes sought Joyce’s dim 
ones, and again the clear, “ I have nothing to 
say. Colonel,” rang through the still room. 

You have considered your answer?” per- 
sisted the president. 

“ Thoroughly, sir.” 

Then a painful duty is at least made easier. 
His Excellency has been lenient and, for the 
sake of your past deeds, granted a trial rather 
than exercise his prerogative and deal with you 
summarily. The trial has been carefully con- 



** I have nothing to say. Colonel.” — Page 272 



4 


A Man Struggles and is Victorious 273 

ducted, due allowance having been made for 
your refusal to permit yourself to be defended 
and every consideration having been given to 
the facts as presented. The proof against you 
is conclusive. This court finds you guilty of 
high treason. It directs that you be executed 
an hour after sunrise to-morrow, in the manner 
customary with spies. And may God have 
mercy on your soul ! 

Amid a tense, nerve-drawn silence the 
colonel resumed his seat. But Halowell stood 
— a rigid, broad-shouldered figure casting a 
long shadow over the disordered table. The 
sun came out and painted a square of yellow 
radiance on the floor at his feet. The quarrel- 
some sparrows suddenly ceased their chirping 
and flew away. As is customary with spies ! 

It had come, and it was horrible. So here 
ended all the fine dreams of power and glory. 
Here ended all the strivings and heart-aches. 
He turned his eyes for the last time to Joyce, 
and hugged to his breast the thought that he 
had saved the girl a deeper pain. Then a wo- 
man's cry rang out; the court rose with a 


274 


Clayton Halowell 


shuffle of feet and a clank of sabres; the cor- 
poral stepped forward ; and the condemned spy, 
his chin up and his lips smiling, was led through 
a passage of silent humanity. 


CHAPTER XVII 


WHEREIN JOYCE LEADS A FORLORN HOPE 

Clayton." 

At the sound of the voice pronouncing his 
name the prisoner whirled around. In the dusk 
of the doorway, beside the guard, stood the 
little figure which was so inexpressibly dear 
to him. 

‘‘ The lady’s to talk to you for just twenty 
minutes,” the guard explained gruffly. (Why 
a woman should waste tears on a cold-blooded, 
murdering devil was more than he could un- 
derstand.) I’ll close the door; but I’ll be on 
the outside, so no tricks, mind.” 

Clayton, I’ve come,” faltered Joyce, and 
held out her hands simply; and as simply the 
man placed them on his shoulders and kissed 
the lips that were quivering up to him. The 
girl was not crying, but her agony was appar- 

275 


276 Clayton Halowell 

ent in her drawn, haggard cheeks and strained 
voice. 

“ Then you don’t believe it, sweetheart ? you 
don’t believe it?” Halowell cried, and the joy 
of her trust wiped away all the horrors of his 
plight. ‘‘ You don’t believe it, sweetheart? ” 
Joyce shuddered and pressed closer to him. 
“Oh, no, no, no!” she cried sharply. “You 
couldn’t have done it. I — I know you are 
shielding someone, a coward — ” 

A gentle hand upon her lips interrupted the 
speech. Clayton was looking down at her 
oddly. Then he stooped and kissed her again, 
she in turn, clinging to him, her arms around 
his neck, her cheek pressed to his. For a full 
minute they stood silent. Then he put her gently 
from him and his lips writhed as if he were in 
torture. 

“ Would you have me do otherwise than 
shield the man ? ” he asked hoarsely. “ I inter- 
fered with his flight and — and — would you 
have me do otherwise? ” 

Joyce was upon his breast again, her eyes 
burning imploringly into his. “ Oh, my dar- 


Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 277 

ling, I would, I would ! Clayton, Clayton, you 
must listen to me There is time. When Mr. 
Washington gave me my pass, he said there 
was time to save you if you could only be per- 
suaded to tell who the traitors are. He told me 
that, dearest, and he believes in you, only — only 
he must punish you because you make him. 
Don't you see you can save yourself! If you 
die that death — if you die, I shall die too. I 
shall pray to God to let me die ! " 

The girl flung herself sobbing upon the cot. 
Halowell turned away and groaned. God ! 
Was ever man so tempted ! The sister beseech- 
ing the lover to give the brother to the rope. 
And the lover in love with the supplicant and 
with life ! The man moistened his lips and tried 
to speak, to answer, to comfort, but the stiff 
flesh refused its office; and he dared not even 
glance toward the prostrate figure for fear his 
determination would break. 

After many of the precious twenty minutes 
had been wasted Joyce's sobs grew weaker. 
Then, and only then, was Halowell sufficiently 
master of himself to dare sit beside her. She 


278 Clayton Halowell 

looked so frail, and, withal so beautiful, in the 
disorder of her grief, that his struggle had to be 
re-fought. But strength had returned to him, 
and the second fight with the flesh was shorter 
and less severe than had been the first. 

Sweetheart,’’ he said, clasping one cold lit- 
tle hand within his own cold palms. “ Sweet- 
heart, we must bow to Fate. In Her infinite 
mercy She sent me to you and gave me five 
precious, precious weeks of happiness. In her 
infinite wisdom She is taking me away. But I 
have tasted and am content to bow. I’m not a 
good man, darling; I’ve been hard and violent 
and reckless all my life. It’s in my blood Joyce, 
and I could no more fight against it than a dog 
can overcome his hatred for a rat. Your love 
might have purged me; yet what am I to pit a 
hazard against Fate’s certainty? Ah, you need 
not protest; I know too well that I am saying 
truth. I am to go to-morrow ; and with me goes 
dishonor. So be it. At least they cannot take 
away this moment, and the memory of my hap- 
piness. And your love will help me be a better 
man in the next world.” 


Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 279 

Joyce raised her tear-stained face, but 
though her lips quivered, no sound came forth. 
Clayton kissed her gently, reverently, and con- 
tinued : 

“ In time, my darling, you will marry — will 
marry a man who will be your companion and 
guide. It is inevitable, and — if it will be a 
source of comfort to you — it is my wish. Let 
me be an incident of your youth — ” 

Beg pardon, mistress.’' The guard was at 
the door, touching his ragged hat. '' Beg par- 
don, mistress, but time’s up.” 

Joyce turned her ghastly, startled face to the 
intruder. Only, however, when he had re- 
peated his horrible words did she seem to grasp 
his meaning. It was the last time she would 
ever see Clayton! In the morning he would 
be — her face changed from white to gray, and 
she pressed her hands upon her bosom as if to 
still the tumult raging there. Her mute agony 
made the guard turn his eyes aside and shuffle 
uneasily. 

Halowell, watching her, gripped the edge of 
the pallet until his hands were cut by the blunt 


a8o Clayton Halowell 

wood. Then, '' Come, little woman,” he whis- 
pered, rising and holding out his arms. The girl 
tottered to her feet, made one blind step toward 
her lover, and collapsed. The guard ran for- 
ward to raise her, but a look from the prisoner 
caused him to shrink away hastily. 

Very gently Clayton raised the slender form ; 
very gently he kissed the cold lips and the 
waxen, curl-enframed forehead. And as dis- 
passionately as if he were bidding a sleeping 
child an hour’s farewell he held her out to the 
blubbering sentry. Send her home quickly,” 
he said. (He did not recognize a single tone 
of his own voice.) “Send — her — home — 
quickly.” 

For many minutes after the door had closed 
and the squdge of wheels had ceased, Halowell 
sat on his bed, livid and motionless. Three men 
entered and stripped him of his uniform — the 
blue and white he had disgraced. He endured 
them calmly, and almost smiled when he recog- 
nised his best maroon-velvet coat in the bundle 
they left for him. Then a chaplain came, a 
gaunt Bostonian of the most pronounced Cal- 


Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 281 

vinistic type, and poured dozens of Bible 
verses, and a somewhat hazy discourse on the 
joys of Heaven and true repentance, into his 
deaf ears. When, however, the divine started 
to paint the horrors of Hell the prisoner cried 
savagely that he wished to be left alone to die 
his death in his own way, whereupon the 
preacher, drawing up his thin form, hurled the 
church's curse at the unrepentant sinner and 
stalked away with small trace of Christian for- 
giveness in his hard, lined face. 

The closing hours of light the prisoner spent 
in writing three letters — one to Dalton, one to 
Olive, and the third to Joyce. The task finished, 
he ate of the brown bread and salt fish which 
composed his supper; threw himself upon the 
bed; and forgot that his sleep was the last he 
would enjoy on earth. For, if campaigning 
and a life of continual danger brings no other 
gifts, it at least teaches men to die with good 
grace, and to sleep soundly in strained situa- 
tions. 


282 Clayton Halo well 

If it were not for the fact that all things must 
end, the Melancholy Dane’s famous query could 
be answered off-hand in the negative. To 
Joyce, though, the afternoon seemed an endless 
succession of horrible visions and exquisite 
agonies. Upon her return from the prison her 
brother had helped her to the lounge in his 
study. Then, immersed in his own selfish fears 
(Halowell might break down at the last mo- 
ment), he took no further physical notice of 
her. Mentally he was busy bolstering his con- 
science with the fact that Clayton had made the 
sacrifice voluntarily and with the knowledge 
that misery does not kill at eighteen. Indeed, 
a sort of fierce satisfaction that his earlier de- 
feat had been thus expiated, tinged his thoughts 
rosily. The half-formed ideas of escape with 
which he had silenced the cries of his better 
nature during the first hours of his victim’s 
capture had been succeeded by a sullen apathy, 
a vindictive resolve that the road to Olive’s love 
and his future peace of mind should be cleared 
of the last obstacle if his passivity could accom- 
plish that result. But into his satisfaction for- 


Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 283 

ever would creep the disquieting possibility that 
Halowell might break down. It occurred to 
him now and made him look up restlessly from 
the pile of letters he was pretending to arrange. 
Curse laggard Time! Would the clock never 
move ! After supper he could endure the strain 
no longer, and, with a hasty good-night to 
Joyce, flung on his cloak and strode off to 
Headquarters to learn the latest news. 

Left alone, Joyce crept to the chintz sitting- 
room and laid her cold cheek upon the high- 
backed chair that had been her lover’s favorite 
seat, and which was still standing lovingly near 
the geraniums, just as he had risen from it. 
The spinnet was open but dumb ; the chocolate 
service on the little side-table was ranged about 
the candelabra just as if it were to be used to- 
morrow. The room was too utterly mournful 
with its associations and the girl sprang to her 
feet and fled, crying softly. The hours she 
spent in her chamber, alternately burning and 
shivering from the fever in her veins and the 
seething rebellion in her brain, were blanks. 
The sigh of the wind as it swept over the hills, 


284 


Clayton Halowell 


and the dreary rustle of the willows beside the 
river, moaned her thoughts and whispered their 
eternal “Why?’^ Why did she live? Why 
had she been allowed to love this man? Why 
should he be the ordained sacrifice of a crime of 
which he was guiltless? Why — why — always 
the cry of a troubled heart — the cry that strikes 
to the root of the universe and is forever unan- 
swerable. Joyce remembered vaguely of see- 
ing George return and of being oppressed by 
the unnatural voices which seemed to have im- 
pregnated the night. She watched the lights 
in the town go out, one by one. Minutes were 
as seconds and hours as minutes : time was en- 
gulfed in the troubled sea of her misery. Be- 
fore she had realized that the night was spent, 
a livid streak shot into the sky. She rubbed 
her aching eyes and stared heavily at the har- 
binger of death. Its light woke the valley. 
A string of wagons crawled up the side of 
Mount Kemble and stood in bold relief against 
the whitened clouds. In the cattle-pens which 
edged the Newark Pike steers began to low 
thirstily. On the road itself, early aids and tired 


Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 285 

sentries congregated. She heard a step in the 
yard and saw George, cloaked as for a ride but 
without spurs (she noted the details listlessly), 
glide through the gate and disappear. The day 
had dawned. 

Presently, above the vaguer sounds of the 
awakening camps, the girl heard the clatter of 
a galloping horse. As she had noted the dis- 
crepancies of her brother’s costume, so now she 
listened to the rhythmic pound of hoofs as the 
wind blew the sound now loud, now soft, into 
her ears. After a brief interval the sounds 
ceased, and were replaced by the slop of hoofs 
in the mud of the lane. Before she could won- 
der at the intrusion the horse had appeared be- 
tween the syringa bushes, and a series of knocks 
was threatening to rip the clapper from its 
hinges. She crept stiffly down to the door and 
opened it. A woman, tall and graceful and 
muddy and dishevelled, clutched her shoulders 
and gasped thickly, without the least saluta- 
tion, 

‘‘ When is it to be ? When is it to be ? 
Quick, for the love of God ! ” 


286 


Clayton Halowell 


Madam de Laurent ! ” 

Yes, yes, yes I Where is he, and when is 
the — the execution to — ” A deep breath cut 
the question and Olive caught at the door. 
“ Have we time? ’’ she gasped. 

There is nothing so sharp as the wits of a 
woman in love. Though Joyce had good rea- 
son to be curious at this unexpected visitor’s 
agitation, she divined that something extraor- 
dinary was about to occur and that the some- 
thing affected Clayton’s life. 

“ You can save him? ” she asked simply; and 
to Olive’s short affirmative, said, Wait here,” 
and ran up stairs and was down again in a 
moment, cloaked for the road. “ I’ll take you 
to him.” 

To the girl’s surprise Olive stooped and 
kissed her. “ You love him too ? ” she whis- 
pered, almost fiercely. 

More than anything in the world.” 

Then hasten — hasten ! ” 

By the time the stiff buckles of Joyce’s saddle 
had been mastered, what with the delay and the 
suspense and the nervous strain of her all-night 


Joyce Leads a Forlorn Hope 287' 

journey, Olive was crying. Womanly divina- 
tion disclosed the truth to the girl, and she 
found solace to her own grief in comforting her 
companion. 

On the road, in a few words, Olive told her 
story: how she had heard of Clayton’s arrest 
and conviction only the previous evening, and 
had come from Dover post to save him. Five 
miles from Mendham the coach had broken 
down and she had completed the journey on 
one of the postillion horses. 

“ God knows why I do it ! ” she finished, in 
a burst of passionate bitterness. I’ve tried 
often enough to have him torn from you. He 
loved me once and I — My whole life has been 
a curse, a plague, a disease from which there is 
no escape but in death. I wish I were dead! 
I wish I were dead ! ” 

‘‘ Hush,” said Joyce softly. 

The livid streaks in the clouds had turned 
pink, and a gray light was filtering through 
the ground-mist when the two women crossed 
the village green and entered deserted Main 
street. Before the Court House had been 


288 


Clayton Halowell 


passed a long yellow ray had shot over the hori- 
zon. Olive muffled a cry and her eyes were as 
menacing and furious as those of a lioness 
robbed of her cubs. 

“ If we are late ! ” she gasped. “ If we are 
late I swear the man who did this thing shall 
die and rot and be carrion before another day ! ” 

‘‘ Pray God we are in time,” said Joyce. 

Madam turned her burning eyes upon this 
child who had won her lover from her without 
so much as an effort, and who was the uncon- 
scious cause of his nearness to death. “ Pray 
< — pray if that will help : I cannot ! ” She did 
not look as if she were lying. “ Joyce, dear 
Joyce, pray for him and — and pray for me.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


WHEREIN THE END IS ATTAINED 

y 

It /s time, prisoner/^ 

Halciwell rolled over and beheld a solemn- 
visaged cavalry-captain standing over him. At 
the foot of the pallet the lank New England 
chaplain was droning forth Bible quotations, 
with a surgeon yawning at his side and six 
troopers staring over his shoulders. In the 
hall were the helmets of a dozen more men. 
And, by the jingle and tramping in the street, 
there was at least a troop assembled without. 

“ Time, is it? ’’ said Halowell, rising slowly. 
And then, Have I the privilege of knowing 
where the — execution is to take place? ” 

The captain had turned away to issue an 
order and so did not hear the question. The 
surgeon was stifling an extraordinary yawn 
and could not answer it. And the chaplain did 
not choose to interrupt the flow of his elo- 
289 


290 Clayton Halowell 

quence on the frivolous pretext of replying. 
Clayton Halowell began to dress, a queer smile 
hovering on the corners of his mouth. He 
would like to have sworn at the chaplain, but 
somehow the words tripped. He contented 
himself, therefore, with using his powder- 
shaker vigorously, and jerking his queue-rib- 
bon as if it were the world’s throat. 

Will somebody please tell me where my 
coat is,” he said presently. 

The captain received a bundle from one of 
his troopers and advanced with it. 

This was left for you last night, and as it 
is more appropriate than the other, I have taken 
the liberty of substituting it.” 

The condemned man flushed angrily and 
drew himself up to his full height. It was a 
liberty, sir — a damnable piece of impertinence ! 
Can’t a man dress as he pleases for his last ap- 
pearance in public ? I — ” 

Someone cut the cord of the parcel, and the 
sight of a handsome coat of black watered-silk, 
silver-laced on the lapels, cuffs, pocket-flaps, 
and seams, appeased Clayton’s wrath. He 


The End is Attained 291 

took the glittering mass to the window, and, 
regardless of the chaplain’s exhortation to ab- 
jure the vanities of the world, examined it with 
pleased surprise, admiring its every separate 
silver arabesque and glossy breadth in un- 
affected delight. 

Mr. Borden left it for you,” continued the 
captain. “ He asked me especially to see that 
you — ” 

Halowell did not listen to the retailment of 
Borden’s request. He lost interest in his new 
possession at once and fingered it uncertainly. 
What did the gift mean? — The problem 
was answered almost before it was formed 
in the discovery of a slit beneath the heavily 
laced collar. The breaking of a few bastings 
would lay the wearer’s neck bare — for a certain 
band of hemp. The devilish implacability of 
the gift revolted Halowell ; then, strong as was 
his repulsion, he donned the garment. Un- 
doubtedly Borden would be present at the exe- 
cution, and his triumph should not be absolute. 

At the prison door an open wagon, guarded 
by two files of troopers, was standing to receive 


292 Clayton Halowell 

the condemned man. Clayton swung himself 
lightly into the body of the vehicle and found a 
seat upon the significant pine box which formed 
its only furniture. The chaplain ascended 
more deliberately; the troopers jingled into 
close order; and the cortege started. Down 
the silent street and into a back lane it trotted, 
the sun slanting impartially upon the faded uni- 
forms of the guard and the brilliant coat of the 
prisoner. A gentle wind was stirring the blos- 
som-laden trees and rippling the blue thread of 
river in the valley. The perfume of moist earth 
and flowering shrubs scented the air. Birds 
sang; and cottage windows gleamed cosily 
through net-works of delicate green tracery; 
and smoke rose from a hundred chimneys. To 
Halowell the earth seemed an animated picture 
which some pitying friend was spreading be- 
fore his eyes. 

Then the wagon jolted around an abrupt 
twist, bumped a rod or two through a throng 
of silent men, and halted. 

The sight of his fellow creatures had the 
effect of banishing the prisoner's dispassionate 


The End is Attained 1293 

calm. He glanced about keenly. The place 
was an orchard that sloped to the river — a 
square of emerald velvet below, a mass of clus- 
tering pink blossoms above. The gibbet was 
an apple tree heavy, like its fellows, with blos- 
soms and perfume. Its beauty and odor inter- 
ested Halowell — until a trooper climbed into 
the gnarled depths and adjusted a noosed rope, 
at which sight the prisoner suddenly lost in- 
terest and turned away. 

Beyond the cordon of guards was the silent 
throng through which the wagon had lately 
passed. A few civilians had defied the bland- 
ishments of Morpheus, and braved the early 
dampness, to witness the execution: but their 
number was scarcely noticeable in that of the 
soldiers (cavalrymen, ragged infantrymen, 
linen-frocked riflemen, and blue and scarlet ar- 
tillerymen), which had been bound in a com- 
mon brotherhood and drawn by a common 
curiosity to see the traitor die. 

A figure on the outskirts of the orchard 
caught and held Halowell’s attention. The 
figure was more closely muffled than the sea- 


294 


Clayton Halowell 


son required, and had a peculiar expression on 
its paste-white face, an expression half of 
ferocity, half of fright. Dalton had battled 
against the impulse to attend the execution. 
But the subtle attraction which draws criminals 
to the scene of their crime had proven, in this 
case as in others, too strong to be resisted. As 
he felt his victim’s gaze he shrank into the shel- 
ter of a tree, his face wet and distorted with the 
startled defiance of a murderer surprised with 
the blood on his hands, a forger discovered by a 
trusted employer with the ink yet wet. Halo- 
well’s heart filled with a savage hatred and his 
eyes, even though he smiled faintly at the 
other’s weak terror, were murderous. It was 
not the Halowell whom Joyce had called into 
being and known and loved, that was dying ; it 
was rather the ex-tavern-lounger, the reckless 
trooper, the dare-devil officer of the days pre- 
vious to the trip to Philadelphia. The chrys- 
alis of tenderness which had enveloped his 
spirits during the brief weeks of his happiness 
had fallen away to allow the old brazen, swag- 
gering Halowell to stare the Grim Reaper out 


The End is Attained 295 

of countenance and laugh as the scythe hissed 
toward him. 

Another man, pushing his broad, suave face 
over the crupper of a nearby horse, claimed the 
prisoner’s attention when he had dismissed Dal- 
ton from his mind. There was something in 
the vindictive triumph of this second counte- 
nance which suggested Satan masquerading in 
ungainly flesh. Borden, far from shrinking at 
his share of the tragedy, nodded and drew his 
lips into a grin of enjoyment. At length a 
score was to be evened and a profitable profes- 
sion made secure. 

The guards, meanwhile, were going about 
their several tasks in a grimly business-like 
way, fastening the prisoner’s arms to his side, 
cutting the bastings of his collar, and finally 
bandaging his eyes. Before the first indignity 
Clayton managed to draw a tiny packet from 
his breast and slip it into his right hand. 

Though the action was swift, the cavalry 
captain detected it, and, “ Open your right 
hand ! ” came his harsh command. 

A tremor (his first) shook the bound and 


296 Clayton Halowell 

blindfolded prisoner. He slowly uncurled his 
fingers and a bit of tissue-paper fluttered to the 
ground like a broken petal, disclosing a dried 
carnation. A breath, like the stirring of the 
air before a storm, rose from the wondering 
onlookers. 

‘‘ You may close your hand,” the captain 
said : and to counteract the momentary softness 
of his voice, read the approved verdict of the 
court, and the warrant under which he acted, 
in his coldest tones. When he had finished the 
stillness was so intense that the rattle of the 
river a hundred yards away was loud to the ear. 
Only the figure in the cart high above the as- 
sembled heads seemed insensible to the awe of 
the moment. He had been permitted to keep 
his flower, so why the necessity of solemnity. 

“ Ugh ! You might at least have used a new 
rope. Captain,” he exclaimed. 

Have you any message for your unhappy 
relatives ? ” asked the chaplain rebukingly. 

Fm the last of the line, sir, for which mercy 
I thank God.” 

“ Do you wish to make a statement? ” asked 


The End is Attained 


297 


the captain. That he thought the prisoner 
guilty was patent in his manner. This rev- 
erend gentleman will transmit your words to 
the proper persons.” 

Thank you, sir, and the reverend gentle- 
man also, but I am quite prepared for that 
which I am called upon to bear. Making state- 
ments is poor work at best. Now sir, with your 
permission, I am ready,” and the Major shook 
himself like a dog clearing his coat of water. 

The Captain’s hand went up to give the sig- 
nal that would precipitate a spy into Eternity. 
But the trooper at the head of the cart-horse 
was not heeding his captain, his eyes, in com- 
mon with those of the throng, being fixed on 
two women who had suddenly come into sight 
galloping madly along the golden road. The 
broad, suave civilian saw the women and dis- 
appeared, cursing. The muffled figure behind 
the tree saw them and shivered from top to toe. 
Through the orchard gate, into the midst of the 
spectators the twain raced. The foremost was 
Madam, and she spurred to the very edge of the 
cart. 


Clayton Halowell 


298 

Take him down ! she cried hoarsely. As 
the staring soldiers made no move, she gasped, 
“ Take him down, I say, you hounds ! Hounds? 
curs rather; at least a hound would know its 
quarry.’’ 

You Speak in riddles, Madam,” said the 
Captain. “ By what right do you command 
me to disobey explicit orders ? ” 

Joyce had reached the side of, and laid a re- 
straining hand upon, her turbulent companion. 
Her face was aquiver with the horror of her 
race with Death, but her every nerve was under 
control. 

“ Madam de Laurent is distraught,” she said 
to the Captain. At sound of her voice the 
prisoner (who had scarcely changed his posi- 
tion since his words announcing his readiness 
for the execution) started as if stabbed. “We 
pray that this — ^punishment — ^be delayed. 
Madam has evidence of Mr. Halowell’s inno- 
cence, and — ” 

“ Evidence ! ” Olive’s voice rose above the 
sudden rustle and buzz of the watching throng. 
“ Evidence ! I have none that is not patent to 


The End is Attained 299 

all here. Fools! Triple fools that you are!'’ 
she went on, the words tumbling, burning, from 
her white lips. “ Sheep, cattle, babies, to be 
led and be content to follow when you have but 
to look in your midst to behold the culprit of 
the crime for which a gentleman you are not fit 
to stand before is near to death. Look ; look, I 
say, there, there, there ! ” 

Olive's voice had risen to a discordant 
scream, the ring of which caused the surgeon 
to move suddenly forward and frown up into 
her face. Her finger, dread, trembling and ac- 
cusative, was at Dalton's head. 

For an instant Dalton was as water, weak 
and wet. Then an invisible power galvanized 
him; his cheeks flushed; his mouth hardened 
as Olive had never before seen it harden : and 
he was beside his accuser, a man ready to dare, 
no longer a weakling shrinking from the result 
of his handiwork. 

“ So ! " he said quietly, and drew a pistol 
from beneath his coat. The on-lookers, sur- 
feited with sensation, accepted the move 
as if it were part of the ceremony they had 


300 


Clayton Halowell 


come to witness. So it is finished, Olive : 
the main is thrown and the stake lost. I’ve 
one bullet here,” and he tapped the barrel of 
his pistol. Which shall it be for — you or 
me? No, gentlemen, there must be no inter- 
ference,” as the Captain and Surgeon and 
Chaplain recovered the senses the unex- 
pected turn of events had deprived them of, 
and started forward. This is a personal af- 
fair, sirs. If it will relieve your minds I’ll say 
the bullet will be for the first who molests me. 
Olive, which of us two shall have the pellet? ” 

Before Olive could reply Joyce was dis- 
mounted and before her brother. 

George ! ” she cried, in a thrilling whisper. 

George! ” 

The man stared silently at the panting girl. 
Then, “ I meant he should die,” he said evenly. 

I — I was in his power if he lived, and I hated 
him for what he had been to — one I loved. 
Now you know the truth,” and he turned away, 
unheedful of the speechless agony his words 
had called into being. “ Olive,” he continued. 
‘‘ Olive, I loved you very dearly. Honor, coun- 


The End is Attained, 301 

try, friends, sister — I gave up all for you. I 
love you now, Olive — even at this moment 
when I am ruined by you, denounced from 
your lips. Well, there’s a way out,” and the 
click of the cocking trigger startled the heavy 
silence. 

At the sound Halowell broke the spell which 
had held him speechless. Dalton, you’re 
mad ! Think of your sister, if of nothing 
dearer. Captain, let the execution go on: if 
I have kept silent until now it was because I 
feared to speak. But you hear me, all — I shot 
Heath’s express: I sent the information of 
Stirling’s raid to Knyphausen: I tried to get 
Buckwell’s dispatches. In God’s name let the 
execution go on ! ” 

Dalton allowed the torrent of self-accusation 
to flow unchecked. At its close, 

“ You lie, Halowell,” he said, in the dispas- 
sionate calm that had deadened his voice since 
Olive’s denunciation. You lie. I did all 
you claim, and more of which you know noth- 
ing. Proof? You’ll find a plenty in the secret 
compartment of the middle drawer of my desk. 


302 


Clayton Halowell 


To you, Chaplain, I entrust this matter. Halo- 
well, see that Joyce forgets. Olive, I loved you 
well in an unwise way. May God have mercy 
on me ! 

Before foot could be stirred, and with 
Madam de Laurent staring apathetically at her 
broken tool, there sounded a muffled report. A 
pulse-beat of silence held the world (for even 
the birds ceased their song at the fell crackle), 
and then a body struck the ground with a dull 
thud that was sickening to hear. In the scream 
that followed Halowell was endowed with the 
strength of a maniac, and broke the bands 
which pinioned him, and tore the bandage from 
his eyes. 

In the center of a swaying ring of humanity 
he beheld a prostrate man and girl. Above 
the twain, dry-eyed, mud-splashed from spur 
to feather, erect in her saddle, sat a woman. 
Behind were the Captain, and the Surgeon, and 
the throng. And over all, men, and women, 
and corpse, swayed the pink-laden trees and 
the gorgeous sunshine. 

‘‘ Mr. Edwards,” the Captain said presently, 


The End is Attained 


303 


and turned to the surgeon, “ I bespeak your 
offices for Madam. Colton, release Mr. Halo- 
well. To you. Major, I entrust Mistress Dal- 
ton. When you can leave her, report to Head- 
quarters. Earle, Bye, Gardner, convey Cap- 
tain Dalton to the Provost. Troop, fall 
in!’^ 

There were many present who would have 
shaken the erstwhile prisoner’s hand but who 
dared not make the move. Indeed, they drew 
away and parted as, with an unconscious girl 
in his arms and his eyes stern as Death, the 
man strode across the waving grass. As he 
passed into the highway a gust of wind sent a 
shower of perfumed petals upon him, powder- 
ing his shoulders and hiding Joyce’s face be- 
neath a delicate blanket. The fragrance and 
opportuneness of the deluge stirred an un- 
thought-of well of tenderness within the man. 
Shuddering, he saw the hair-margin which had 
brought him near to losing his love. And in 
the same quiver he saw the depth of the girl’s 
misery. With infinite tenderness he stooped 
and kissed the waxen forehead. He must be 


304 Clayton Halowell 

more than lover now: more than husband. 
He must be Life. 

He * Jk He * * 

Hours later, after the sun had passed merid- 
ian and sunk low in the red west, after a dis- 
honored corpse had been buried by a squad of 
grumbling men and watched over by one silent 
on-looker, two men stood beside a bed in the 
cottage in the lane that had led Halowell so 
often to Paradise. 

“ She is sleeping,’’ said the older man, a 
surgeon by the green on his uniform. “ It was 
nip and tuck for her reason up to an hour ago. 
I can’t do anything more now. I’ll come again 
about eight.” 

'' She’ll live? ” asked Halowell simply. 

The surgeon nodded. “ To be a hundred, 
with proper care. Good-day.” 

If, a moment after his exit, he had returned 
to the sick-chamber, he would have witnessed a 
strong man’s relief from terrifying agony. 


FINIS. 


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